


All My Heroes Got Tired

by grimeysociety



Category: Black Panther (2018), Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Awesome Darcy Lewis, Blood and Violence, Civil War Team Captain America, Counter Sex, Creampie, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Heavy Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Illegal Activities, Long-Distance Relationship, Nomad Steve Rogers, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Reunion Sex, Shower Sex, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-29
Updated: 2019-11-23
Packaged: 2021-01-07 21:34:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 28,008
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21224555
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grimeysociety/pseuds/grimeysociety
Summary: After the events of Civil War, Darcy is rescued by fugitive Steve Rogers. Darcy is dragged into the world of nomads and spies, and she thinks the only way she'll get out of there is in a body bag.





	1. i.

**Author's Note:**

> Hello and welcome to any newcomers. I wrote this originally as part of Kinktober 2019. If you sense any drastic change in tone - you're not the only one. The first two chapters of this were written for two separate kink prompts and by the time both of them were written, my brain had sort of... eroded. I wrote about 80k in 31 days, which I do not recommend, especially if you're doing it on the fly like I did. 
> 
> Several people asked me to make this a separate story, and after thinking about it for longer than five seconds I thought, "well, fuck it". I don't have much impulse control. Clearly.
> 
> **This is your official warning that this is going to be a horny and angsty fic. NSFW.** Thanks for stopping by to help replenish my crops.
> 
> The title of this fic comes from the Bleachers song 'All My Heroes'.
> 
> [my Tumblr](http://grimeysociety.tumblr.com/)

_They know my name because I told it to them_   
_But they don't know where, and they don't know when_   
_It's coming or when_   
_But it's coming; keep the car running_

\- **"Keep the Car Running" by Arcade Fir**e

**i.**

She wondered how this was going to be discussed at a later debriefing with those in charge. If they made it out of there alive, that is. For a split second, Darcy weighed up the pros of dying at the hands of HYDRA – number one on the list being ‘I won’t have to file any paperwork’. Other people would, and then Jane would have to sift through Darcy’s belongings and try to figure out what to do with her life-sized 3D poster of Nathan Fillion from _Firefly_.

She knew she didn’t want to die, especially not in some dank dungeon with her hands zip tied behind her back, with a bucket in the corner of her enclosure, and a flickering light overhead. It all felt a little too on the nose for her tastes.

Darcy knew it wasn’t a joking matter, getting kidnapped. She was in for a shitload of issues stemming from this. She’d never be able to leave the house without having a panic attack and she’d avoid being in crowded places. She tried to think back on the last several hours and recalled that she was walking home in a well-lit area in Albuquerque suburbia. Why they chose to capture her now was completely lost on her. She felt as if that ship had thoroughly sailed, and she’d been able to assume the role of happy little idiot when she and Jane went their separate ways last year. They still spoke every day through texts, emails and phone calls, they just didn’t work together anymore. HYDRA deciding to kidnap her for information seemed too little too late, hence Darcy’s happy idiot stance on Jane and everything SHIELD related.

Darcy knew she missed it, being part of something greater than herself. She still had nightmares of the Destroyer and the Dark Elves. She’d check the news every day and miss the atmosphere of that world, even though at the time she always felt as though her days were numbered. Sitting in the dungeon now _didn’t make sense_.

Having a sense of humour might come in handy when she was going insane from being tortured. Or maybe it would just infuriate her captors more than ever, and they’d redouble their efforts to break her. Darcy gave short sigh, feeling her eyes prickle at the thought of being touched by forceful hands. Her stomach churned.

She heard footsteps and she tensed, waiting. Then came a loud bang and Darcy flinched, readying herself for some consequence. There was only so much she could do, sitting in the hard chair with her hands tied behind her back… which was kind of the point.

The door was wrenched open and she squeezed her eyes shut, waiting for the first strike. She opened one eye and her mouth fell open.

“Oh. Hi,” she said.

A hairier version of Steve Rogers stood in the doorway, his eyes falling to Darcy’s. At least, she was pretty sure it was him. It had been a few years.

“It _is_ Steve, right?” she said, and he nodded vaguely, looking dumbstruck.

“The fuck are you doin’ here, Darce?”

She attempted a shrug, a small smile forming. “I… search me. I have no idea. Aren’t you… a war criminal now?”

“Kinda,” he muttered, and he knelt behind her, examining her wrists. “You been here long?”

Darcy tried shrugging again, feeling the plastic cut into her skin some more and she winced.

“How’d you even know I was here?”

Steve went quiet and Darcy sighed.

“You didn’t know I was here?”

Typical. No-one really noticed her when she was part of this world before when she worked for Jane, so having the same thing happen now when she wasn’t her boss anymore shouldn’t surprise her. She closed her eyes briefly, shaking her head.

“Whatever. You got a knife or something?”

Steve let out a breath, sounding irritated. “Lost it before in some guy’s chest –”

“Oh,” Darcy said. “Use your teeth.”

She felt something wet on her wrist and glanced down, seeing Steve do just that, his beard scratching her as his teeth bit into the plastic, before he turned his head and spat away from them, Darcy’s arms slackening.

She glanced down at her wrists, seeing the skin was marked with blood blisters and broken skin and she rubbed them, shaking as she attempted to stand.

“You good?” Steve asked, and she felt one arm wrap around her waist, tugging her upright.

“Yeah…”

“How’s life treatin’ you otherwise these days?” he asked, and Darcy gave a short laugh lacking mirth.

“You really think I’m not going to ask about what you’re up to?” she retorted.

“Mine’s not as interesting to me,” he replied.

They began to walk out the door, Darcy’s arm draped awkwardly across his broad shoulders, his arm around her waist still as he held her close. Her feet dragged but she didn’t mind if it meant moving quickly. She wasn’t above rescuing. She didn’t think any woman really was, especially in a HYDRA facility like this one.

“Where are we?” Darcy asked, and she heard the distant banging on gunfire coming from somewhere outside the walls of the hallway they moved through. “I’ll be able to answer your question if you tell me.”

Steve let out a huff of a laugh, Darcy’s eyes meeting his. The close proximity of their bodies made it that much easier to see the thick lashes that framed his blue eyes.

“We’re just outside Xpujil,” he replied, and Darcy’s eyes bulged.

“Mexico?”

Steve nodded. “Nat saw your face on the dark web. From the looks of you, I don’t think you’ve been here long. Which is good…”

They turned a corner and Steve rose his arm, blocking a bullet that hurtled toward them. Darcy gave a yell, Steve’s body shielding her as they crouched. She watched as he punched a guy’s lights out, the agent crumbling to the floor, his nose a bloody mass in the middle of his face.

“Black Widow’s here?” Darcy asked, her heartbeat at a sickening pace in her chest. She was ready for it to pop from beating so hard.

Steve’s eyes met hers. “Yeah…”

Darcy looked at his belt. “You got a gun I can use?”

He nodded, taking a Glock from his holster and handing it to her, handle first. She took it, checking the safety was off, and held it in both hands.

“Transportation close?” Steve said, his finger pressing to a little black device in his ear.

Darcy could hear a static, muffled voice replying to Steve as she kept her eyes darting around the hallway, listening out for any sign of life.

“Yeah, Darcy’s fine,” she heard him say, and she glanced at him, blinking. “Stay where you are.”

There was a loud bang and Darcy jumped, gripping her pistol tighter, trying to find the source of the sound. Steve grabbed her elbow, tugging her along as they ran. She couldn’t feel her feet on the ground as the adrenaline coursed through her. She hoped it would keep her going until they were out of there. Steve kicked a door down and they ducked into a stairwell, their footsteps echoing. Darcy heard shouts and glanced down, seeing three guys yelling and running after them.

“Go, go, go!” Steve yelled, and they took off, their ascension swift.

Darcy stumbled, possibly twisting her ankle in her haste. She gasped when more figures came into view, blocking their path to the roof. Steve lunged forward, punching with both hands, Darcy’s back to his as she held her gun aloft.

“Steve, we need backup –”

“Nat –”

She heard Steve get cut off and she spun around, seeing he was slowly being overpowered. There were ten of them, including Darcy and Steve, crowding in the narrow stairwell, limbs everywhere. Darcy shot two guys on top of Steve before he wrenched himself free, giving her a quick glance.

“Thanks, I owe you –”

“Shut up,” she retorted. “That was for getting me out of that chair.”

She ducked to the floor and Steve sucker punched the men behind her. Darcy rolled toward the wall, panting, her eyes darting around. Unconscious men lay around her, Steve standing with his hands still balled into fists. He offered her help getting back up and she took it.

“_Your life_ isn’t so interesting?” Darcy said, and Steve flashed a grin.

“_You_ were the one taken hostage.”

Darcy felt her stomach flip at his beautiful face, remembering those old feelings from years ago. She thought she’d lost them for good, somewhere in between then and now, but it seemed like she’d been lying to herself. It was easier to forget about a crush when your crush had become a wanted man, on the run for the last year and a half.

She slipped her hand into his, and they ran up the remaining stairs, bursting into the rooftop. Darcy could hear the quinjet closeby, and she rose a hand to wave at it.

“You thought it’d be an easy extraction?”

“This place was virtually abandoned, Darce,” he retorted, his hands on his hips.

She wondered if she stank. She caught a whiff of herself earlier when she came to, and it wasn’t anything riper than a long day without deodorant, but she’d rather not stand so close to Steve just in case.

They stared at one another for a beat, the quinjet’s ladder dropping as it lowered. Steve moved closer to her, taking her by the waist.

“Ladies first.”

She smiled down at him, picturing him twirling her around, which he never did before. She never got a chance to ever get that close to Steve. It was hard to be bitter about it now, because he was wearing the hell out of this new rugged look of his, his gaze warm and drinking her in.

She saw a shape in her peripheral vision and turned her head toward it, seeing a figure burst out into the open, pistol raise. Darcy reached for the gun she tucked in her pants, lifting it up to aim at the approaching figure behind Steve’s back, squeezing the trigger.

The crack of the gun echoed in her skull, her ears ringing as Steve’s face changed, his eyes going wide. She stared as the man behind them fell to his knees, then keeled over, his gun clattering on the concrete.

Steve glanced behind them, before turning back, nodding at the ladder.

_“Go.”_

Darcy stretched, grabbing the ladder and began to pull herself up, grunting with the effort. She tried to not look down as she climbed, Steve behind her. When she reached the top, Sam Wilson was standing over her.

“You alright, Lewis?”

Darcy felt Steve’s chest hit her back and she blushed at the sudden contact, nodding up at Sam.

“You dumbasses couldn’t help him out?”

“You think that was my decision?” Sam threw back, grabbing her arm and pulling her into the quinjet.

Steve followed her, both men grabbing Darcy to keep her upright as the jet swayed. The door lifted and shut, and Darcy let out a shaky breath, glancing down at the pistol she still held tight in her hand.

She felt dizzy, and Steve took the Glock from her, Sam’s eyes searching her. She was vaguely aware of him asking her a question and touching her face, but Darcy fought to stay still, only to feel her whole body tingle. Darkness swallowed her up, and in that brief moment, Darcy felt safe.

-

She bolted upright, gasping as she nearly smacked her body straight into Steve. She glanced around, seeing she was in the quinjet still, her legs across two chairs as Steve knelt beside her, Sam standing close by.

“Nosferatu,” Sam muttered, and Darcy swung her eyes toward him.

“That wasn’t a dream?” she asked, and Sam shook his head. “Where are we going?”

“Base,” Steve said, and she felt his hand on her shoulder, gently pushing her back to lie down again. “We’re another ten minutes away. You passed out.”

She felt her stomach flip as she tried to settle against the seats, staring up at Steve. His brows were furrowed with concern.

“It’s top-secret, right? Like maybe you won’t let me leave?”

Darcy recalled her war criminal comment from before and tried to not physically cringe at the memory. She passed a hand over her face.

“Look, I’m not even doing the science shit anymore,” she said to Steve, whose frown had intensified. “I work in human resources now. I have a pug bobble head on my desk next to my Hulk Post-It Notes. That’s how… in the game I am right now.”

Steve blinked. “I didn’t get that impression before. You saved my life.”

Darcy felt the heat rise in her cheeks. “What?”

“You two boys said ‘thank you’ yet?” called a female voice and Darcy gulped.

“Nat?” she called. “Can I call you Nat?”

She got up awkwardly, trying to not touch Steve as she shuffled toward the front of the jet, leaning against the empty co-pilot chair beside Black Widow. Darcy stared at her hair, which was a short white blonde bob. The spy gave her a little smile.

“Can I call you Darcy?” she replied, and Darcy nodded. “Then, sure. Call me Nat.”

“Steve said you were the one that found me on the dark web,” Darcy said, and Nat nodded. “Did you find out why I was even on there in the first place?”

“Probably something to do with a ransom. Or some kind of hostage exchange,” the spy replied. “I think we beat Tony by several hours.”

“Thanks for… coming and getting me,” Darcy said, and Nat flashed a wider smile.

“No problem. But don’t just thank me… I don’t think I’ve seen Cap like that in a while.”

Natasha’s smirk made Darcy pause, her mind reeling at the implications. Nat turned her head slightly to look at Steve, who was shaking his head, rubbing his eyes.

“I mean, not since…”

Sam and Natasha exchanged a look.

“Sharon?” she whispered, and Sam winked.

Darcy tried to stare straight ahead at the view of the dimmed lights she could spot in the distance.

“You know I can hear you,” Steve called, and Darcy bit her lip to stop herself from smirking at his irritability.

It was so tempting to turn around and flash him a saucy gesture of some kind, like dropping a hip and smirking at him. She cleared her throat.

“I need a shower.”

“Yeah. All of us do,” Sam muttered, and she didn’t bother suppressing her snort.

-

They landed at the base and Darcy was searched on arrival, until Steve stepped in and shook his head at the guy who was waving the special detector on her person.

She felt him touch the small of her back with a gloved hand and she tried not to be visibly react, walking on with Sam and Natasha with Steve right behind her.

“It’s better if you don’t know where you are,” Natasha said, before Darcy could ask. “Not just for our sakes.”

Darcy nodded, keeping her mouth shut. It was dark, the airfield they landed on home to three other jets. Everyone walking around was dressed in varying shades of black. Several saluted Steve and the others as they walked. Darcy recognized no-one and she supposed it was for the best.

“Oh, shit,” Darcy hissed, and Steve touched her arm. “My wallet. I bet some asshole has all my cards, fucking up my credit –”

“I took care of that,” Natasha cut in, turning her head to glance Darcy’s way once more. “Your keys, too.”

“How long was I out?”

“Maybe a day,” Steve said, and she nodded, biting her lip. “We’ll get you home later tomorrow.”

“We’ll find you a bed,” Natasha added and Darcy flashed her a grateful smile. “And something to eat.”

“None of those home fries, please,” piped up Sam, who rose his eyebrows at Darcy. “Can’t have Lewis knowing what a sorry state that kitchen is.”

“Susan is working on it,” Natasha retorted. “Good help is hard to come by.”

“Susan needs to hire someone who knows something about flavour,” Sam muttered. “It’s embarrassing.”

“We can’t all have hot sauce on everything like you.”

“Who said?” Sam snapped, and Darcy began to giggle. He caught her gaze. “_No_ home fries. Maybe a sandwich. And no salads, either. That shit is sad.”

They reached a main building and Darcy ducked in, glancing around. It reminded her of the SHIELD facilities back in New York, all high ceilings and glass walls.

“You need to sign in for a medical,” Natasha murmured, nodding at a desk they walked towards.

Darcy let out a sigh. “Do I have to?”

“It’ll be quick,” Natasha said, nudging her. “Cap will keep you company.”

Darcy wasn’t exactly mad about it, but she could hear the conspiratorial undertone to everything Natasha said, and she suspected Steve could, too, by the way he looked at her when Natasha bid them goodnight. Sam rose a hand goodbye as well, leaving Steve and Darcy alone.

“Do I _have to_ see a doctor?” she asked him, and he smirked.

“You _did _faint.”

“I’m _fine_,” she said, drawing out the word.

Steve looked at her for several seconds before nodding, looking over Darcy’s shoulder.

“Okay? I don’t have to go?” Darcy said.

His eyes swung back to hers, pinning her there.

“Yeah. I’m not the boss of you.”

“Well, okay,” Darcy said, putting her hands on her hips. “How about that sandwich?”

-

They were alone in the cafeteria, sitting at a small table with the food between them. They got the home fries, despite Sam’s forbidding them. They weren’t that bad. She’d eaten better, but right now, all she wanted was comfort food.

It began to sink in, what happened. She caught herself staring at her cup of coffee, thinking the last moments over before she woke up in that basement. Whoever took her knew where she worked. She shivered, hearing Steve say something she didn’t quite catch.

“Huh?”

“You okay?” he said, his arms crossed, watching her.

Darcy blinked a few times. “Oh. Yeah, totally… just… thinking about…”

Her eyes stung, and there was a lump in her throat. The feelings overcame her so suddenly she gasped, surprised.

“Oh, shit.”

She pressed the heels of her palms into her eyes, letting out a shuddering breath. She was embarrassed, too, even though she knew it was stupid to be.

“We’ll get you home soon,” Steve said, and she felt him reach out to touch her shoulder.

She took her hands away, sniffing. She spoke to her coffee cup instead of Steve.

“Do I even get to go back? Now that I know you’re all here?”

There was a beat and he withdrew his hand, resting it beside his own coffee. Darcy could see his nails were short, and she could be wrong, but it looked like he bit them.

“Tony Stark and Ross won’t kick down my door this time tomorrow when I’m back in the real world?”

She glanced up to meet his gaze. Steve looked weary.

“I dunno,” he said eventually. “And I’m sorry it’s not a proper answer I can give you…”

Darcy nodded, thinking. She sighed. “You don’t know if I’ll be allowed to leave.”

“You will go back home,” he said, firmer.

“If _you_ say so?” Darcy said, a little more bite to her tone.

She thought about what Natasha said earlier, about Tony beating them by several hours. She might have just missed him, and then she wouldn’t be dealing with being associated with Steve. She only had a vague sense of how badly the Accords really fucked up the Avengers, and she knew this made it more difficult, that Steve was the one to seek her out and pick her up.

She watched Steve mull this over, picking up his coffee and sipping it before putting it back down. Darcy glanced at his chest, seeing the outline of the star on his tactical suit. She wondered when he decided to tear that off.

“I’m sorry,” she murmured.

He blinked. “No, you’re right. I’ve dragged you into this. But I can get you back home. I _will_ get you back home, Darcy.”

Darcy nodded, tried to believe him. She knew when he got an idea in his head he stuck to it, hence the Accords falling out with Tony. Darcy’s version that she heard from Jane had it sounding like it was a long time coming, this friendship ending abruptly. She knew it wasn’t so simple as men disagreeing.

“Why’d you come running?” she asked, unable to keep the question to herself any longer. “Why not wait for Tony to get me instead?”

Steve’s lips parted, his eyes focusing on her hands clutching her coffee cup.

“You… wanted to do the right thing?”

He nodded. “That and you reminded me of another time, when things felt simpler. Now it’s…”

Now he was on the run, in an undisclosed location, his appearance so drastically different Darcy was sure a stranger walking past him wouldn’t pick him as Captain America. She knew those eyes, and that voice. She remembered years ago when she was on the compound, his wry smirks and boyish face.

“The beard’s nice,” she said, and his brows hiked. “Unexpected, but… nice.”

“You look exactly the same,” he threw back, which made Darcy roll her eyes, unconvinced. “Except for the gun-savvy stance. When’d you learn to shoot?”

“Last year,” she replied, shrugging. She felt a little proud of herself, though. “Went to a range, did some classes. I thought about getting a concealed carry license but…”

Then she’d have to explain why she had a gun, if she had one. She’d have to tell her story, or some version of it to explain why she sometimes whipped her head around in crowded places, searching for danger.

“I’m glad,” Steve said. “Saved my ass.”

“I saved Captain America’s ass,” Darcy said, grinning. She picked up a bit of her home fries and dipped it in ketchup, popping it in her mouth. “I deserve a sticker. Or a t-shirt.”

Steve ducked his head snorting. “Right.”

“I mean, if there was one ass I could save, it’d be yours…” she muttered under her breath, averting her gaze to her food. She licked her fingers clean, Steve watching her.

He leaned back in his chair, glancing away, thinking something over. His eyes swung back to hers, and Darcy was reminded of the past. Sometimes Steve looked at her in a way that made her feel as if it was a physical weight. She felt a heat settle in her gut.

“This is the part where I ask about your boyfriend,” he said, and Darcy’s stomach flipped. “Ian… Boothby?”

Darcy knew about his memory, that he’d never in a million years forget a name unless he tried to, and she got the feeling he hadn’t meant to forget that she had a boyfriend the last time she saw him. Darcy crossed her arms, tilting her head.

“Dumped me.”

“What a horse’s ass,” Steve murmured, and Darcy smiled. He copied her, waiting.

“What about Sharon?” Darcy threw back, and she thought she might regret it by the way Steve’s eyes pulled away from her.

“Kind of a relationship killer to be out of the country,” he replied, and Darcy nodded.

There was a brief silence and Darcy kept watching him, feeling braver. She tapped her cup once, twice, sucking in a breath.

“You and Nat?”

Steve shook his head. “Bucky and Nat.”

Darcy’s eyes widened. “_Really_? No shit?”

“No shit,” he echoed, his smile returning. “But you didn’t hear it from me.”

Darcy burst into a smile. “Good for Bucky.”

So that wasn’t just a rumor – he managed to escape with Bucky from Siberia after all. She didn’t dare ask where his friend was stashed. She knew her knowing that would put too many lives in danger, including her own.

Steve looked at her plate and Darcy nodded. She was done. She rose from her chair with her plate on her tray, walking over to put it aside for the kitchen staff. Steve got up from his chair, waiting for her. They fell into step and walked back toward the elevators.

“Never got the timing right, did we?” Darcy murmured, and Steve’s hand went still, hovering over the button to call the elevator. “Always… off.”

“It’s what I’m best at,” Steve replied, pressing the button.

“So don’t let it pass you by.”

The words were out of her mouth before she could stop them, low enough that maybe another person would miss them, but she knew his hearing. She knew he was attuned to her, a flash of surprise and heat in his eyes when he stared down at her.

“You didn’t leave me behind before,” she added, her voice a little clearer.

She was pointing out things he already knew. It didn’t stop her from blushing, wondering how far he’d let her go.

“Kind of takes the guessing out of the equation, right?” she said, “And we don’t have to promise anything to one another, since you’ll be here again long after I’m gone –”

“Darcy,” he said, cutting her off.

“I’m just saying,” she said, her voice smaller.

“I know,” he said, nodding.

The elevator doors opened and Darcy moved inside, Steve stalling outside for a few seconds, until the doors began to shut and his arm reached out to stop them, his eyes elsewhere.

“I’ll drop it,” Darcy began. “I’ll shut up and then –”

He moved fast, turning his whole body toward her, the doors shutting behind him. He pressed a button, the car taking off as he moved closer, crowding her into a corner. He pressed his hips into hers, his head tilting to meet her and he kissed her.

Darcy had no time to recover, her brain and body mismatched as he nudged her mouth open and pushed his hot tongue between her lips, his moan low in his throat but unmistakable. Darcy’s eyes shut as he grabbed her by the back of the head, his thigh between her legs as she arched toward him.

There was nothing tentative about it, no hesitation in his touch. He took from her, only coming up for air for her sake, his mouth already pressing to the column of her neck. His beard was softer than she expected, and Darcy shivered, the facial hair making her skin tingle.

The elevator dinged and he pulled back, tugging Darcy off the wall of the car, dragging her out of there. He placed his hand flat on the reader beside his front door and Darcy heard a click, still panting from earlier. He pulled her inside by the waist, pressing her into the closed door when they were safely inside.

He lifted her up, her legs wrapping around his waist and Darcy moaned, sure that she’d pictured this a hundred times over. There was no way she was about to question Steve manhandling her, his lips finding hers again in the low light of his apartment. She dug her fingers into his thick hair, and she was rewarded with his breath hitching, his hips bucking into hers.

Her face felt hot, and she wanted him closer – she wanted him inside her now, and she pulled back, searching his face.

“You want to do this here or in the bedroom?”

If she wasn’t wet already, the look he gave her would have broken her resolve. He gave a short laugh, his lips meeting hers, his eyes still glued to hers.

“Maybe I can’t wait,” he whispered, and Darcy laughed, feeling light-headed.

His hands fell from her waist to cup her ass and she hissed, tugging his bottom lip between her teeth.

“Can’t help feeling like you’re all talk, Steve,” she retorted. “You’ve been all talk for years…”

“That ain’t true,” he cut in.

Darcy lifted her chin in defiance and Steve moved to kiss her again, lingering and thorough. Darcy sighed, feeling his hips grind into hers.

“You better…”

“I better what?” he retorted, his voice rough in her ear. He nipped at her neck, sounding pleased with himself. “I better what, Darcy?”

“Fuck… me,” Darcy gasped. “Or don’t… but I’d rather you didn’t leave me high and dry…”

She felt too hot, sure that she was bright red from pleading in his ear, but he was looking at her like he wanted to eat her whole when he moved back from her throat, licking his lips.

“Well, let’s be real. I’m anything but dry right now –”

He cut her off again with a rough kiss, all teeth and tongue. Darcy was overwhelmed by it, feeling as though Steve was fucking her with his tongue, one of his hands on her butt moving up and under her shirt, squeezing her tit as he kept her against the door, his hips rocking.

Darcy was spun around, Steve’s arms wrapped around her as she kept her legs locked around him, his mouth on her front, pressing kisses to her shirt as he walked them down the hallway and through a door to his bedroom.

They landed together on the mattress and Steve pulled back, tugging his gear off, Darcy watching him in the semi-dark, and in seconds he was half naked and lying on top of her again, kissing her breathless. He pulled her shirt off, his hands already going to unclasp her bra, throwing it aside.

Darcy gasped when he sucked a nipple into his mouth, his beard tickling her sensitive skin, her cunt clenching in anticipation. She moaned, feeling his hands on the waistband of her jeans, popping the button and yanking everything down.

“Steve…”

She jolted at the feeling of his tongue running up her slit, his shoulders pushing her thighs apart. He pinned her there, tasting her, lapping at her cunt as she dug her fingers in his hair, gnawing at her lip. She couldn’t keep it in, what he was making her feel. She whimpered, his broad tongue licking at her, making her tremble. He sucked her clit into her mouth and she shut her eyes, her breath coming in shallow pants. He kept her on the precipice of her orgasm, pushing a finger inside her to the third knuckle. Darcy couldn’t help herself, gripping him as tight as she could, wanting to trap him there as he worked her over with greedy licks and sucks.

“Fuck, you’re gonna… you’re gonna make me…”

It felt like it was too much, she couldn’t keep herself quiet if her life depended on it. She dug a heel into the hard muscle of his back, trying to keep herself distracted, even for just a second. It wasn’t enough, because he kept at it, never letting her go and Darcy crumbled with a moan.

She left that room, that secret place, wherever they were. She came so hard she lost vision, her whole body tensing. She was aware of her thighs pressing into either side of Steve’s head, trapping him between her legs before she finally let go. It was nothing short of euphoric, him making her come like that…

He climbed up and kissed her, smelling of her arousal. Darcy glanced down between them, her hands moving to grab at his pants. There was a shuffle, and Darcy felt the nudge of his cock against her. Steve’s lips were parted, his mouth opening wider when he pushed in, his eyes glued to hers. He sank into her and Darcy felt Steve’s pant against her face, heard the hiss as he filled her to the hilt.

“You don’t have to be nice,” she whispered, and Steve’s eyes went darker, his hips rocking shallow at first. She lifted her head to brush her nose against his. “No pretences, remember?”

She was goading him. He was balls deep in her and she was teasing him. He pulled back, slamming into her, Darcy’s teeth grit at the force of him. Her head fell back when he did it again, and then he was off – hips thrusting him deep and fast into her, Darcy’s nails digging into his back like claws.

“Is this how you thought about fucking me?” she whispered, and he let out a breathless laugh, picking up speed.

“Yeah, but you weren’t doin’ so much talkin’…”

“Then make me shut up,” Darcy retorted, panting.

“I didn’t say anythin’ about you shutting up –”

He pressed his thumb to her clit without warning and Darcy squeezed around him, feeling a fresh flood of arousal, feeling everything evaporate but where they were joined.

“Goddamn,” he gasped, and Darcy began to wail. “So – fuckin’ – _tight_ –”

Darcy came with a yell, half-sobbing, half-laughing by the end of it. Steve flattened her to the bed and fucked her blind – she lost sense of herself as he kept her trapped beneath him, babbling to him about him coming inside her and messing her up.

He pressed his mouth to hers at the last second, smacking against her as he climaxed, sounding like he’d run a marathon by the time he resurfaced.

He pulled back, glancing down where they’d joined, inspecting her. Darcy’s fingers fell down, and she felt his come begin to leak out as she kept twitching, and she smelt it in the air.

She saw Steve’s cock was still standing to attention and she licked her lips.

“You done?”

He shook his head, a little smile forming. He rubbed his sweaty face, taking hold of his cock and stroking himself.

“Yeah? You got another load for me?” she whispered. When he nodded, she smiled in surprise. “Really? You could do a second one?”

“Yeah,” he breathed, and he jerked himself a little more, before shoving back inside Darcy, his hips moving rough and fast.

Darcy couldn’t help it – she giggled, and maybe she was a little delirious from the first time, but she began to moan, Steve’s forehead pressed to hers.

“That what you want, you want more? Fuck,” he gasped, his balls smacking into her. “You’re gonna smell of me for hours…”

“I want it, I want it,” Darcy hissed.

“Come here,” he whispered, and he shifted back, pulling out and turning Darcy over, pushing her knee up and tucking back inside her, his hips smacking into her ass.

Darcy could barely stop herself from screaming when she came, Steve’s hand between them, rubbing her as she pressed her face into the bedspread.

Steve tugged her up until she sat on him, jerking his hips and pinning her there, one arm wrapped around her chest.

“Gonna come again for you, Darce,” he whispered and she whimpered, nodding. “_Fuck_…”

He went still, his cock twitching inside her and Darcy gave a soft laugh, so happy.

They panted, Darcy’s hand coming up to touch his head before he turned her face toward his for a kiss. Darcy made a sound against him, the world flooding back.

-

Darcy walked differently the following morning. She was glad neither Natasha nor Sam asked her anything about it. She was sure the teasing would start up the second she was gone.

The plane ride home was full of glances between herself and Steve, her fingers twined with his as Sam and Natasha sat up front.

“I’ll call you,” he said, when they were alone.

She was about to jump on a bus and make her way back to New Mexico and the sun was setting. Despite what transpired last night, Darcy knew they weren’t about to shake one another because of distance or time.

“Have fun with that,” Darcy said with a smirk. “Bouncing satellites and whatnot.”

He smiled, squeezing her hand, looking down at it.

“Darcy…”

She knew it didn’t sit well with him, Ross and Tony probably putting several agents on her to watch her for any sign of where Steve was hiding.

“But no promises,” she added, winking.

Steve pulled her into a kiss, breaking away to whisper, “_Now_ who’s all talk?”


	2. ii.

_Do I matter? I'm ecstatic, I'm depressed_   
_More like God's special mess, never had no halo_

\- **"NO HALO" by Brockhampton**

**ii.**

Darcy lifted her head from the pillow they shared and she took in the surroundings, remembering where she was. She had only several hours left with him before Nat was going to knock on their hotel door, signalling it was time to go.

Twenty-four hours with her fugitive boyfriend. If that’s what he was – her boyfriend. Steve was definitely a fugitive. That was never disputed.

-

She’d spent the last several weeks holding onto their one night in that undisclosed base. Darcy knew she was being followed in Albuquerque. She was quite sure that her new neighbor whose name was Gerald was some type of federal agent. She never acknowledged this, though it was so tempting, especially with how folksy he came across at first. She was sure he’d make switch if she brought it up, and then she’d have even more trouble sleeping at night than she already did.

She was right about those nightmares cropping up after she was rescued. She dreamed of being snatched off the street, gloved hands over her mouth as she was forced into a van. She never went anywhere alone at night, she woke up sweating and shivering. She kept seeing parked cars in the street outside her apartment block, every one of them suspicious.

She was sure her phone was bugged, her apartment was probably bugged, her car, her cubicle at work. It wasn’t fair. She didn’t ask for Steve to rescue her.

Some weeks she was okay. Tentatively so, she was the word ‘okay’. The worst week she couldn’t leave her apartment without thinking she’d be gunned down and her mother kept calling and calling, asking her why she was getting these edible arrangements sent to their house. She didn’t know if she could try figuring out whatever code there had to be to the chocolate bouquets.

“It’s fine, Mom,” she murmured, when she finally called her back. “It’s probably some neighbor’s ex trying to get them back.”

“No, I’m sure they’re for you,” her mom replied, sounding like she was at the end of her tether. “Can you please come by and take them home?”

Darcy left that morning, a Saturday, seeing Gerald on her way out coming back from walking his dog. She wondered if it was government issued, the Chihuahua named Jim Morrison. It could be Gerald’s own dog, but she didn’t want to pause to figure it out.

“Nice day out,” Gerald said. His grin showed perfect porcelain chompers and Darcy nodded, giving a vague smile.

She missed Steve so much she felt sick with worry, and he’d probably know. She thought about General Ross kicking down her mother’s door, a SWAT team scouring every inch of the place. If anyone touched her mom, they were fucked. Darcy would make them cry. Never mind that it was the government versus her.

“Yeah. Hopefully traffic’s not too bad,” she murmured.

She was about to drive for four hours. If she came across as clueless it was better for her. She looked down at Jim Morrison.

“He’s so cute.”

“Thanks. Have a good day,” Gerald replied, and Darcy walked the other direction, her hand up without turning her head to glance his way.

She was sure the second she was gone from the street he’d be inside her apartment. She walked down to the apartment garages and unlocked her car, pausing as she opened it.

She thought about flattening herself to the floor to check if there was something under the car. She opened her handbag and rummaged in it, pretending to look for something, passing her hand over her new firearm she got since returning to civilization. She decided to get that conceal carry license, and she found that touching it every so often brought her a bizarre comfort. She flicked a tampon onto the floor, the plastic casing scattering under the vehicle. She made a show of sighing audibly before crouching to grab it, seeing her car looked the same as yesterday when she last checked.

She put her key in the ignition and took another second to psyche herself up enough to turn it, not before picturing blowing up, her mother never knowing why her daughter had to die alone in a parking lot in Albuquerque.

Darcy drove without listening to the music that played, trying to think of everything that could possibly go wrong. Her mother could already be some type of hostage. She knew her mom would never sell her out, except maybe if they guaranteed her daughter would die if she didn’t. Her mom didn’t know anything about SHIELD or Steve Rogers. All she knew was that Jane wasn’t her boss anymore, and Darcy’s current job had nothing to do with Thor or superheroes.

When she pulled up at the house, she took note of each vehicle in the street. There was a florist’s truck that she knew was probably some type of surveillance setup. She knocked on the front door and waited half a minute before her mom answered, her eyebrows hiking.

“You lost weight. God, but your _boobs_, still, honey,” she murmured, pulling Darcy into a tight hug.

Her mom Rachel lived alone, a survivor of breast cancer, her house big enough for several other people. She always complained about the amount of cleaning she had to do but never moved. Darcy was sure it was something to do with her insecurities about change, whereas her daughter was able to drop everything and run with no notice.

“These flowers are driving me nuts,” she added, and Darcy tutted.

“Mom, throw them out.”

“Some of them look crazy expensive –” Rachel shut the front door and kept speaking, but she held up a hand to Darcy, which caused her heartbeat to pick up. “- so I don’t wanna throw them out just yet.”

Darcy went still, Rachel’s thumb gesturing to the kitchen beyond the hallway. Darcy followed her through, glancing around, seeing three different baskets on the table with several smaller bouquets dotted over the rest of the bench and flat surfaces.

She picked up a card and flipped it over, her eyes widening. _Donald Blake_.

“Mom,” she began, and Rachel shook her head, but Darcy went on. “That florist left these here? The one parked outside?”

“Nope,” her mom replied, popping the word.

They stared at one another and Darcy wondered what to do. She picked up each card from the arrangements, all of them labelled _Donald Blake_. With nothing else to go by, she couldn’t say if there were any instructions. In a court of law, she couldn’t say if there was a code she could follow. She wouldn’t be lying.

Rachel didn’t ask who Donald Blake was. Darcy wondered when she’d figured out that this wasn’t a one-time mistake.

“You staying for lunch?” Rachel asked eventually, and Darcy nodded.

They hand sandwiches and drank lemonade, watching _The Wizard of Oz_. Darcy’s hand slipped into her mothers, both of them tense the entire time. She didn’t know how to make it right without causing more distress. She just hoped her mother would forgive her one day, since there was no way she’d ever turn Steve in if she knew where he was.

She went home the following day, seeing Gerald when she got to her front door. Jim Morrison was nowhere to be seen.

“You’re back,” he said, and Darcy nodded, unsmiling.

“I don’t know where he is,” she said, and Gerald blinked at her.

“I’m sorry?”

“I don’t know where he is,” she said again, not adjusting the volume of her voice, not providing any context.

She stared at Gerald for several seconds before she ducked inside her apartment, hearing Gerald’s footsteps fade away. She went around the apartment and turned everything off, including her router. She swept for bugs, destroying the three she managed to find. She knew they were there, but since she’d acknowledged Gerald, she didn’t see any benefit in letting those stay. She went to her freezer and got her bottle of vodka from behind her ice cream and opened it, pouring herself a whole tumbler of the stuff, drinking it steadily when she put it to her lips.

She didn’t sleep well that night despite being drunk. She lay on her back in bed, thinking of Steve sitting opposite her in that mess hall.

Nat would know about Donald Blake from SHIELD. It was the name Thor used in his fake I.D. to try and get Mjolnir back years ago.

The flowers must have meant _I’m thinking of you_. She picked up each card and studied them, seeing the same logo and embossed lettering.

She picked up her phone first thing that Monday morning, putting on her best imitation of a stuffed nose.

“I’m so sorry,” she whined into the receiver. “I can’t come in today. If anyone needs me, I’ll keep my phone on me.”

When Darcy hung up, she immediately logged onto a VPN, beginning to type Donald Blake into a search. A lot showed up, nothing very distinct. Her bit her lip, wondering if it was up to her to send something out.

She made a blog with his name in the title, using a photo from a free image hosting site. She tried to think of something distinct that only Steve, Nat or Sam would know. She stared at the near-empty blog, chewing her lip. She thought of maybe eating some breakfast, but her hunger wasn’t really there –

“Yes,” she whispered, and she began to type into the search engine, finding pictures of home fries. It’s what she ate when she sat with Steve in the mess hall, despite Sam warning her not to.

She put up two different recipes, writing little comments beneath the photographs:

_Needs hot sauce_

_I’ve had better_

She logged off, hoping something would pop up in Nat’s searches.

She made herself a pot of coffee and listened out for Gerald for the better part of an hour before she received a comment on the bottom of Donald’s blog entry.

_ **f4f?** _

Her heart leapt and she clicked the blog name, seeing a sparse account with no profile picture. She sent the first message, only needing to wait a couple minutes before she got a reply.

** _Big dope’s been missing you._ **

She couldn’t help it – through all the stress and sleepless nights, she’d been holding out for something like this and she smiled, feeling her heart soar. Steve was undoubtedly the big dope, she wondered if it was him messaging her now or Nat.

_Me too. I’m going crazy._

Her email she used for the blog got a spam e-mail for meeting singles and she clicked on it, coming across a nearly blank website, all black, except for a tiny spot in the corner that she clicked on. It was like chasing the white rabbit.

She got to a chatroom and saw she and one other person was online, GenEngraversTrot. Oh, that sweet nerd Steve was… it was an anagram of his full name. She grinned, starting to type as Guest:

_People are watching my apartment. Are you safe?_

** _I’m so sorry._ **

When he didn’t add anything else, Darcy frowned, typing her reply.

_I want to see you._

She waited a couple minutes, sitting back, wondering if this was all just an elaborate way for him to apologize and cut her off. She stared at the username until her eyes watered.

** _Dallas. Thursday._ **

She thought she might cry in relief. She typed back:

_OK_

He was gone and she sucked in a breath, crossing out of the page.

-

She bought a bus ticket to Dallas, telling her work that she needed time off. She never said out loud where she was going, and bought the ticket at the bus depot, waiting there for half an hour before she boarded. She left her phone at home, unsure if she was coming back any time soon. In a way it was freeing, walking away from everything. If she got this right, she wouldn’t have to worry. She sent her mom a ticket for a Canadian cruise, their emails between them superficial. One day she might tell her mother everything.

She arrived in Dallas and went to the Sunshine Rio Grande Motel, her taxi dropping her off as the sun had begun to set. She walked into the reception with her backpack slung on one shoulder, feeling the nervous sweat break out all over her again. It was easy enough to pretend that she was a little overheated, making a show of wiping her brow as she approached the front desk.

“My name is Susan Chambers, I had a reservation –”

“Oh, yes, Mrs. Chambers, your husband checked in earlier.”

The concierge grinned at her, holding up a set of keys. She took them trying to keep her composure.

“My husband, was he in good spirits?” she asked, and the concierge laughed.

“Oh, yes. Very keen to start your honeymoon.”

She glanced down at the keys in her hand. She wondered why she was getting them so easily.

“He gave us your I.D. earlier.”

A fake, but with a very real photograph of Darcy. That made sense. Darcy nodded, giving another smile.

“I’m exhausted, so I’ll…”

She walked out, hoping she wouldn’t give herself away as she weaved between two staff. She could hear trucks on the highway as she walked around the block to the stairs and walked two at a time, finding the right room down another corridor.

She held her breath as she stopped at the door. After all of this, it could still be Tony Stark on the other side.

She slotted the key in, turning it in the lock. She opened the door, ducking inside the dark room, readying herself.

She turned, seeing Steve sitting on the bed several feet away from the front door and she broke into a run, his arms wrapping around her and picking her up when she reached him.

“Oh, my God,” she whispered. “You’re here.”

“Yeah,” he breathed. “God. Look at you.”

He put her down, her hands on either side of his face, seeing his eyes shining at her in the dark. She could feel his beard under her hands, could smell the scent of his skin.

She kept tracing his face as if to check he was real, his eyes scanning her to do the same, and she heard him swallow a couple times before he finally kissed her.

She made a sound against his lips, the weeks of waiting falling away, and they were back to where they were before all this, mouths pressed together as his arms around her tighter. The kissed deepened, his tongue pressing between her lips and Darcy gasped, grabbing him by his hair and pushing her hips into his.

He spun them so she was beneath him on the bed, his hand going to turn on the lamp to flood the room with yellow light, and she felt the tears spring in her eyes, seeing all of him so clearly, staring down at her.

“Steve…”

“God,” he breathed again, “You’re so beautiful. Jesus, I missed you.”

She gave a little wet laugh, kissing him again without closing her eyes. Her hands fell to his neck, then down his front to his pants.

The sex was fast and desperate, practically tearing each other out of their clothes, mouths missing each other as they rutted. When the world righted itself afterwards, he told her:

“I’ve got until tomorrow and then Nat will come get us.”

Darcy nodded, her heart aching already at the idea that they’d have to separate again so soon. He began to kiss down her face and neck, sucking a nipple into his mouth, Darcy’s eyes fluttering closed as he laved her tits and cunt with his tongue, making her come with his head squashed between her thighs.

-

They dozed off, only for Darcy to wake several minutes later, afraid that it had all been a dream. She went to the bathroom, flipping on the light when she slipped inside. She stared at her naked upper half in the mirror, seeing the marks on her chest and neck from where Steve sucked at her skin. She glanced down, seeing beard burn on her thighs.

She sniffled, leaning against the sink for a couple minutes to ground herself. It felt like every emotion she’d felt had finally caught up with her. She cried quietly, covering her mouth. She stopped after a few minutes, wiping her face with the backs of her hands, taking a few deep breaths.

She went back to bed, picking up Steve’s arm and tucking herself under it, burying her face in his chest.

-

She woke later, feeling Steve had rolled over, pressing their chests together, kissing her neck and face as she blinked blearily.

“Hmm?” she murmured, as he hitched her thigh over his hip.

-

She ate peanut M&Ms from the minibar while Steve slept beside her. When she was finished, she watched him, the blankets pushed away, his naked body stretched out beside her.

He had hair everywhere, not just his face and chest. Her hand slid down his front to his stomach, studying the trail of hair from his navel to his crotch, seeing his spent cock resting against his thigh. He sighed, stirring.

Darcy scooted closer, her fingers brushing his bare hip, nails scraping through the soft curls of his pubic hair. She glanced at his face, his long eyelashes against his cheek. She moved up onto her knees, leaning down to kiss his stomach.

She heard him take a deep breath, her movements still slow as she began to stroke him, feeling the warm weight of his cock in her hand begin to grow hotter.

“Sweetheart…”

She met his eye, seeing his sleepy gaze on her, naked and hunched over with his big dick near her mouth.

“Want you,” she whispered. Her tongue darted out to lick him lazily, circling the crown of him.

He moaned, soft and quiet. She sucked him into her mouth and his breath hitched, his jaw slackening.

“Fuck…”

She felt the arousal pool between her legs, and she wanted him as bad as yesterday, as bad as last week. Forget that they’d fucked several times in between the moment the hotel door shut behind her and now. She didn’t just want him to go down on her again, either. She wanted it to last, to have there be evidence of him left behind.

She wanted him to fuck her hard until he came, bruising her skin with his hands and mouth.

She felt his fingers dig into her shoulders and she let him go, his cock standing to attention, wet and pink. He pulled her up to kiss her, before pushing her onto her back. Her ankle rested on his shoulder as he pushed inside, her back arching off the bed.

She was going to be a wreck when this was all over, if she didn’t somehow end up in a body bag because of Gerald or someone else.

How was she supposed to not think of this always, Steve with his big dick, making her lightheaded and slurring the words that ebbed from her mouth? How was she ever meant to recover from this slow, fulfilling sex?

He worked her over in steady, lingering thrusts, Darcy’s eyes slowly closing over time, her exhaustion beginning to set in once more.

It lasted longer, Darcy flattened to the mattress by the time it was over, the air smelling of the fresh scents of sex. Steve rolled off of her, their legs tangled as she failed to fight of sleep.

-

She felt like the only way to breathe was to scream.

-

“Please,” he whispered, pressing his forehead to hers as he rutted into her.

She ached all over, shaking her head. She couldn’t come again. She’d pass out if she did. Her heart would give out. She’d need to be scraped up from the bed and shipping back to her mother’s house in a glass jar.

He pressed her clit precisely where she needed it, knowing her body so well now that he could pull it out of her.

“Fuck,” she wailed, and she came, gripping him as tight as possible, the edges of her vision blurring.

He followed her soon after, cradling her as his hips gave out.

-

“I’ll miss you,” she whispered, their fingers thread together as they sat beside one another.

It was nearly 24 hours to the exact minute since she got there, and she heard the knock on the door, her stomach dropping.

Tears sprang in her eyes and Steve kissed her hard, making a sound against her when she gave it back to him, the desperation, the longing.

He answered the door, Nat standing there with her glowing silver hair, her mouth set in a line.

“Time to go.”

Darcy didn’t care about embarrassing herself. She kissed him again, her hand over the place where his star used to be. She tried her best to memorize the taste of him before, and she didn’t know if it would ever be enough. She sensed Nat give them some privacy, only for a few moments before she said it again, Steve’s answer curt before he apologized:

“We know. Sorry…”

“It’s okay,” the spy murmured, and Darcy wondered if she was the same with Bucky. “Five minutes. I’ll meet you out front. Darcy’s cab will be waiting.”

They nodded and she left them.

“Have to go,” she whispered.

Steve drew in a ragged breath and kissed her again, pulling back to bite his lip, a sound like a sob bubbling up.

“I’ll be okay,” she lied. She cleared her throat, attempting to laugh. “Just don’t go finding someone else to have marathon sex with…”

He didn’t humor her. “_You_ should.”

“No,” she whispered. “_Never_.”

He squeezed her hand hard, his eyes glassy.

She closed her eyes went he went to leave, and didn’t open them for quite some time, the idea of being alone almost too unbearable to face.


	3. iii.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back! Hello. This sort of fell out of me. **The following chapter is angst-ridden** but I hope you stick with it, and **this is a general content warning for torture and violence**. Remember this has an eventual happy ending.

_Leave all your love and your longing behind you  
Can't carry it with you if you want to survive_

**_\- _"Dog Days Are Over" by Florence + the Machine**

_Ain't it warming you, the world goin' up in flames?_   
_Ain't it the life of you, you're lighting up the place?_   
_Ain't it a waste it watch the throwing of the shade?_   
_Ain't you my baby?_   
_Ain't you my baby?_   
_Nothing fucks with my baby_   
_Nothing can get in the kid or my baby_   
_Nothing fucks with my baby_   
_Nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing_

\- **"NFWMB" by Hozier**

**iii.**

Darcy lowered the pistol, panting heavily, the adrenaline pumping through her. She’d begun to shake, and her ears were ringing from the gunshot. The man whose handcuffs were hanging off of her left wrist was slumped on the ground, Steve kneeling beside his body, his eyes wide.

She knew this wasn’t a love story. How could it be?

-

She expected General Ross and a SWAT team waiting for her when she arrived back in Albuquerque, but all that stood in the bus station parking lot were other families greeting her fellow passengers.

She thought about what Steve told her, to let him go, to not do this again. It was fleeting, he said when he came inside her the first time in Dallas, their clothes barely shoved aside to reach one another. He said it only to take it back within seconds, and Darcy knew he’d never let her go, not even if she tried to – he’d decided he never could when Nat found her on the dark web.

She’d broken the law. Specifically, the law that forbid interacting with wanted enhanced humans as outlined in the Sokovia Accords. Darcy had read those cover to cover years ago, never thinking they served her a personal purpose – except maybe as a replacement for toilet paper.

She’d crossed a line – several lines. She’d had sex with Steve Rogers in a hotel in Dallas for 24 hours and never notified the authorities. She used a false name and pretended to be married to a wanted criminal.

Now she had to pretend like nothing happened, and that her life hadn’t changed beyond recognition.

She took a taxi home, walked into the apartment complex with her handbag and let herself into her place. The hallway was empty, and perhaps Gerald was already waiting in his apartment for her to return. She did a sweep of her place, turned on her phone and checked her messages.

Several from her mother, thanking her for the surprise gift of the European cruise. She asked her mother over the phone to just enjoy herself, and not bother too much about keeping tabs on her. She didn’t want her mother in the country for a while. She advised her to make plenty of friends, in case someone tried to take her from the cruise as possible leverage. If Rachel made several connections, it would be harder for her to disappear without people noticing.

Darcy knew she made it ten times worse for herself to meet with Steve in secret. She hadn’t decided yet if it was worth it. She didn’t want to think about that too much. She needed to keep her head down and act as if she had nothing to hide.

Sleep was harder to come by. She lay awake at night, picturing Steve being detained in some off-shore prison, being tied down and tortured. He’d never crack. He’d never tell Ross anything about where his friends were, where Bucky Barnes was. She dreamt of being water boarded, drowning at the hands of faceless men, and she woke up sweating and panting, clutching her throat. She started putting a knife under her pillow, practising techniques alone in her kitchen. She kept finding bugs whenever she returned from work, and one time she decided to buy an air horn to blare into the found bugs before crushing them.

Work became the easiest part of her day. She longed for the hours at her cubicle, dealing with things that felt trivial compared to her home life. The problems were small, manageable. The biggest dramas at work became a welcome distraction. She never went anywhere without her gun, not even to the bathroom.

She didn’t hear from Steve at all for seventeen days. No check-ins, nothing. She watched the news diligently, waiting for something to come up about Steve and the others.

Jane called her and she lied about everything. She said she was going to download Bumble again, maybe find someone through a friend at work. She did everything to make it seem like she was not attached to Steve at all, when she knew that if the authorities had searched her the second she pulled into Albuquerque after Dallas, they would have found her covered in Steve’s DNA.

-

She had a number to call. She’d memorized it on her way back from Dallas, repeating the numbers over and over in her mind like a mantra, like an anchor to reality. If she knew the number, Steve would still be there to pick up the phone.

She finally went to Best Buy to get a burner phone. She paid cash, made sure she didn’t use it near her place. She charged it at home, and then went to a park to place a call.

He picked up after three rings.

“Hey.”

“Hey,” she whispered, covering her eyes with a shaking hand. “If feels so good to hear your voice.”

Her own voice wobbled as she said that, and she began to tremble, waiting for him to say something, something to comfort her.

He wasn’t in that type of business. He was picking off drug cartels and sleeping on dirt floors when he wasn’t staying at the secret base.

“I miss you,” he said, and she could picture his eyes, the way his brows would knit together. She longed to be there with him, stroking his beard, feeling the bristles between her fingers.

She didn’t know what else to say. She knew she couldn’t say anything too specific, in case she’d been followed and someone was listening in, or possibly reading her lips from a distance.

How in the hell had Wanda ever managed this? Steve told her about how she and Vision would meet up. She’d been in Asia with Vision when Darcy and Steve were in Dallas. She thought about Tony Stark knowing Vision was out there, literally sleeping with the enemy.

She supposed because Wanda had powers she was less likely to be intimidated. Darcy was a civilian and so very human.

“Me, too,” she replied, her stomach twisting.

She still hadn’t got a hold on her appetite. It’s why Rachel noticed she’d lost weight. Darcy knew she needed to stop that from happening further, in case it raised more suspicions. She needed to act as if she wasn’t under any acute stress.

“Call me again in two days.”

“Yeah,” Darcy whispered, when she really wanted to start screaming.

“You’re safe. You’re going to be okay. We’ll make sure.”

“Yeah…”

She thought about blurting out something incriminating, cutting ties. She thought about it enough. He’d understand if she threw in the towel. Most people would do that to save their own skin.

But Darcy wasn’t most people. He knew that.

“Bye,” she gasped, and she hung up, before snapping the flip phone in half and shoving it into her pocket.

She discarded the pieces down the toilet in the park’s public bathroom, and then again in the library restroom down the street.

-

The dread she felt the second she snapped the phone in two began to dissipate over the next day. She thought about how it would be ideal to swoop in and grab her the second she finished the phone call. She’d be caught red-handed with destroying evidence. They could have cuffed her the second she flushed.

Instead, nothing happened. Darcy didn’t see or hear Gerald that day, and at night she didn’t see any cars parked outside the apartment complex. When she did a sweep of her place, there were no new devices.

She didn’t want to let her guard down because she’d be vulnerable, yet she found herself watching dumb YouTube videos and laughing out loud, eating half a pint of ice cream. It wasn’t to distract herself, it was quite the opposite – she allowed herself to sit and be present in her own space, trying to enjoy her night.

She went to bed early and slept for an hour before she startled awake, her throat dry. She crawled out of bed, seeing it wasn’t ridiculously late at night. It wasn’t stupid o’clock in the morning, the ideal time for her to start having nightmares involving shackles and water down her throat…

She went into the kitchen and got out her flask of still water from the fridge, lifting it to drink.

The rest she knew happened. The rest she doesn’t remember fully. She knew her door was kicked in, and there were flashing lights in her face. She could remember the shouting, her yelling back – she’s pretty sure she asked to see some ID. She was shown a name and photograph and then immediately forgot it. She held her hands above her head, blinking blearily at the light shone on her face.

“Is your name Darcy Victoria Lewis?”

“Y-yes,” she said, squeezing her eyes shut, but keeping her hands up.

She felt hands on her shoulder and arm – two people walked her out of there. She was whisked out of the apartment complex into a van wearing her pyjamas and no shoes.

She went still, her heart beating so hard it hurt. Her blood felt thicker. She felt like she’d been poisoned. She was panicking silently, shaking all over with her eyes shut, her head bent.

She was sat down, something put over her head. She cried, biting her lip to stop herself from making much noise. She needed to get a hold of herself.

They had nothing. There was nothing for them to find. She’d been careful. She was smart enough to not make any mistakes. There was nothing that could tie her to Steve, except him bringing her back from the HYDRA cell in Mexico.

The van drove as she tried to keep her breathing steady, her body shivering.

She felt gravel on her feet. She was dragged, the bag whipped off of her head. A basement with a table and two chairs. She glanced around to see two men wearing head-to-toe black, their faces masked, their hands gloved.

“Where is he?”

Darcy balled her hands into fits.

“Where is Steve Rogers?”

“I don’t know.”

She didn’t. That was the truth. She flinched when one of them took hold of her and threw her against the wall, her back smacking into the concrete with such force that she felt like her skull had temporarily detached from the skin of her face.

Her eyes were stinging and she grunted, before it happened two more times.

“Where is Steve Rogers?”

“I don’t know!”

“We know you know! We know everything! Tell us where he is and we’ll let you go.”

They couldn’t possibly believe she was that stupid. If she disclosed where he was, it meant she’d broken the law every day she didn’t tell the police what she knew. She shook her head, trying to get rid of the sensation of being literally rattled.

“I don’t know…”

“This is pointless,” one of them said to the other. “She’s just lying to stall. We’ll have to get her mother in here.”

She felt her eyes widen, a wave of nausea rolling over her.

“No. She doesn’t know, either. I don’t know where Steve Rogers is. I swear on my mother’s life I have no idea where he is.”

“We only reward the truth,” one of them said. “So tell the truth.”

It was like they were trying to communicate something to a kindergartener. Darcy frowned, tilting her head. She felt better prepared for the onslaught when they grabbed her again and threw her against the wall, but it didn’t feel any less painful.

“You wanna give me a concussion?” Darcy slurred. “How am I supposed to help you find someone if I can’t fucking think?”

She fell to the floor, her knees taking the most of the impact, and she winced, shutting her eyes. She was smacked on the side of her face and left ear.

“Get up.”

“You get… me up,” she whispered, and the hands were back, pulling her up by the shoulders.

Each bloom of pain made her world that much smaller. All she felt for several minutes was pain and a short reprieve. They screamed in her ears, pulled her hair, and hauled her like a ragdoll.

Darcy had never even been in a fight before she knew Thor. Now she had a gun at home and could feel the blood gushing from her nose.

She clutched at her face as she lay in a ball on the floor, their kicks landing on her stomach and back.

Eventually, somehow… they stopped. She heard them walk out and slam the door and she panted, her mouth open against the dirty floor. She struggled to get up, trying to feel if anything was seriously damaged.

She coughed, spitting out blood, sighing raggedly as she leaned against the wall, waiting.

She didn’t know how long the time was in between the men leaving and the door opening again, but she was on her feet when it happened, anticipating more pain.

She saw a man with grey hair and a thick mustache wearing a navy suit enter, his eyes cold and sharp. She recognized him as Secretary of State Thaddeus Ross. She knew he wrote the Sokovia Accords, and she knew he was one of the main threats to Steve and his friends.

She felt as if the world had tilted off its axis. This powerful man who lived in the screens she watched was standing in this basement with her, pulling up one of the chairs, his brows lifting in her direction.

“Darcy Lewis?”

“Do I know you?” she threw back.

There was no way she was going to look past the ludicrous nature of her night. He’d sent a team of agents after her, made sure she was roughed up, and now he was pretending like he wasn’t certain of exactly who she was, like she was that insignificant to him?

Darcy didn’t doubt for a second that this man thought anything good of her. She was his enemy as far as he was concerned.

She stared as he gestured to the other chair.

“Please, sit down.”

Darcy crossed her arms, wincing from the movement, refusing to sit until Ross did the same. There was only a couple feet of space between them. She could play footsies if she was so inclined. She could smell his cologne, the remnants of coffee on his person, the cigar smoke in his clothes.

This asshole’s nickname was _Thunderbolt_. There was no way she was going to make this easy for him.

“Miss Lewis, we brought you here because we are aware of your involvement with Captain Steve Rogers of the Avengers Initiative. We know that you have spent time with him since he disappeared off American soil in 2016.”

“Who took me from my apartment?” Darcy said.

Ross blinked at her with little reaction. “They’re not my guys.”

“I doubt that,” she retorted.

“FBI,” he said.

Darcy wasn’t convinced but tried not to show it. Ross cleared his throat, glancing at her bloody nose.

“We know everything,” he said.

Darcy didn’t believe that either. She wasn’t about to fall to pieces because they scared her into it. She’d done everything Nat and Steve advised. She bought things with cash. She used the false name of Chambers when she got to Dallas. No-one would know where she stayed, where Steve stayed. Nat made sure of that. Any information Ross wanted her to think he had, he _couldn’t_ have.

She kept her face as stone-like as possible. She waited for some other threat. She didn’t think he would be the one to personally lay a hand on her.

“Your mother will be questioned as well.”

“What for?” Darcy said. “She didn’t even know that I was kidnapped.”

It was true. She hadn’t told her mother where she was. She hadn’t even told her work, instead gave them some excuse about being ill, and she did the same when she went to Dallas. She knew they’d start asking questions, but Darcy had become an expert liar. She’d learned from the best.

“Why didn’t you tell her?” Ross asked.

“Because of… conversations like these ones,” she replied, choosing her words carefully, her tone dripping with irony. “Seemed like it would be a hassle for her.”

Ross didn’t seem undeterred. “Then walk me through it. You… were kidnapped.”

“Yes.”

“Do you recall this happening?” he said, and Darcy shook her head.

“I woke up in a dank basement, not unlike this one, with my hands tied. Steve Rogers broke me out.”

She wasn’t going to divulge any information he hadn’t asked for. She wasn’t mentioning Sam or Nat by name. She wasn’t even going to mention what part of Mexico he found her in.

“Rogers brought you back?” Ross said, and Darcy nodded. “Did you stay with him anywhere?”

“The plane.”

Lying by omission was not ideal, but she was on the jet with him to and from the secret base.

Ross flashed a smile. “Right.”

Darcy did her best to keep her face neutral, though she couldn’t help wishing she could broadcast her contempt for him telepathically. She was sure he hated her just as much.

“You can’t hold my mother hostage because you have hunch,” she said. “And she’s not at home, currently.”

They would already know that – Ross and the people who worked for him.

“I can have someone look at your nose,” he said, pointing for a microsecond. There was no sympathy behind his eyes. “When you start talking.”

“I _am_ talking,” Darcy retorted.

“Where…. is Rogers?” Ross said, his eyes flashing.

She didn’t blink, only leaned forward in her seat, her hands flat on the table.

“I don’t know.”

He glanced away, shaking his head.

“That’s really too bad, Miss Lewis,” he murmured. “Because I can’t help you out, then.”

He met her gaze again and Darcy suppressed a shiver, sucking in a shaky breath.

“You’re going to go to prison for a very long time.”

Darcy blinked. She told herself again that he was lying. He had nothing on her, nothing he could possibly use in a trial.

“Twenty years or more,” he murmured, tapping a finger on the table. He levelled her gaze. “For conspiracy against the United States.”

She wanted the other men to come back. She wanted the pain. She didn’t want these mind games anymore. She didn’t want the Secretary of State within spitting distance of her.

“It must kill you,” she whispered.

She took a deep breath, thinking of the time she shot the HYDRA operative on the roof, saving Steve’s life. She knew she was strong. She just had to hold on that little bit longer.

“What?” Ross said.

“It must kill you that the only successful instances of the super soldier serum are both out there, outside of your control,” she murmured.

Ross looked like it took every ounce of his strength not to reach across the table and strangle her to death. Darcy kept still, watching for any signs of his will power faltering. She jolted as he shoved his chair back abruptly.

He smiled at her. “You are all so loyal. It’ll get you killed.”

Darcy wondered if he meant that as a promise. She stood up, moving until her back met the wall once again. Ross glanced at the door.

“I walk out and that’s it. You waive whatever help I could have given you –”

“You asked me where he is. I don’t know,” Darcy bit out.

He let out a mirthless chuckle. “Okay.”

When he left her, Darcy placed her face in her hands and wept. She didn’t care if it made her seem innocent or not. She couldn’t keep it in anymore. She cried until she was gasping for air, and she tried to shove it back down, only for the door to open again, revealing the two masked men.

The methods that they used were variations of the enhanced interrogation techniques. Darcy knew this from her sleepless nights. It was nightmare fuel, reading about Guantanamo Bay and other blacksites, the places where people were held without trial for the sake of saving American lives. Putting aside whatever people thought about torture, Darcy knew for a fact that they couldn’t learn anything from her. It didn’t matter if they redoubled or re_tripled _their efforts – she did not know where Steve was.

They didn’t humiliate her sexually. They didn’t strip her off her clothes. They did make her wet herself because she couldn’t hold her bladder any longer, the hours blurring. She had no water or food. She was subjected to blaring nursery rhymes and the light hanging from the ceiling so she could not sleep.

‘Walling’, which was the act of them repeatedly smashing her against the wall, happened the most.

She thought about her being swept under a rug. If she died there, her head smashed in, her stomach empty, they’d blame something else. Maybe some kind of drug overdose. They’d use the narrative of her missing work as her being some type of addict, her life falling to pieces. She pictured her mother crying over a shut casket, her face too disfigured to be shown at her funeral.

She was getting ahead of herself. It was hard not to. Darcy was pretty sure she was hallucinating.

She saw Thor crouching beside her, stroking her face, telling her to sleep when she knew she couldn’t. The music was too loud, but the exhaustion was making her too sluggish to keep her eyes open. She saw Jane writing on the wall with a marker, her back to her as Darcy called her name.

She was doused with icy water and she screamed, her teeth chattering, feeling soaked to her marrow.

Ross came in, watching her on the ground. She saw something in his eye – frustration and loathing, his teeth grit. He crossed his arms as she drew her knees up to hug them, unable to keep still.

“Let’s get her out of here.”

Darcy fainted, and the world swung away from her again. Her vision dissolved. She was swallowed up and she felt relief. She could rest, deep inside her own mind, away from life.

-

She came to, bolting upright with a gasp, and she realized she’d been brought back home.

She glanced around, hearing life beyond the walls. She saw her phone and picked it up with shaking hands, unlocking it to check the time. 2PM, three days after the night was taken.

She saw several messages from work, and one new email from her mother. Jane had sent her a few texts as well. No-one was suspicious of her disappearance, just concerned.

_“Darcy… we need to have a serious talk…”_

She tuned out the rest of her boss Amanda’s Voicemail, deciding to call her back instead of listening to the rest. She picked up, sounding exasperated.

“Did someone poach you? Is this about you not getting enough time off?”

“No,” Darcy rasped. She attempted to clear her throat but everything felt scratchy and sore. “It’s not you, or the company. It’s just not going to work out, I’m sorry.”

“Darcy, I’d like to say we’d miss you, but you ghosting us like this is absolutely disrespectful. Unless there’s something else you’d like to tell me. I’m all ears. You were there for me –”

“No,” Darcy cut in, feeling a sob bubbling up that she managed to squash. “I can’t come back. I’ll have someone come by to get my stuff.”

She had no plans. Without her job in HR at the little risk assessment company downtown, she was completely fucked. She had no savings, nothing to her name she could use in the meantime.

She didn’t know if she could move from the couch but she knew she had to eventually. She carefully sat up, taking her phone with her. She kept her eyes on the screen as she shuffled down the hallway to the bathroom. She flipped on the light and dropped her phone in shock.

She looked like a person who’d been buried alive. She was covered in grime, her hair a tangled mess, her body covered in bruises all over. Her nose still had coagulated blood covering it. She made herself look, made herself take note of every mark. She opened her mouth, seeing all her teeth were still there. She was pretty sure her nose wasn’t broken. It was tender, but it hadn’t warped in shape or size.

She stripped off her pyjamas, turning toward the shower to run the water. She had to hold onto the door to get herself inside without toppling over. She pressed her forehead to the wall as the water ran, near-scalding hot, the steam overwhelming her vision.

She glanced down at the water flowing into the drain, seeing it was streaked with pink and brown. She leaned back, rinsing her hair with her eyes shut, trying to focus on the water hitting her.

She began to sob. She felt herself begin to crumble and she sunk to the floor, cuddling herself as the water ran over her.

-

She swept her apartment when she managed to crawl out of the shower. She walked around naked, dripping water everywhere. She didn’t care anymore about dignity, because Ross and his men obviously thought so little of her. If there were any cameras, she hoped they saw her being defiant in the face of so many eyes.

As predicted, she found a wide angle lens hidden in her bookshelf and she flushed it down the toilet. She dressed in her Culver sweatshirt and a pair of raggedy cut-offs with a feminist patch she’d sewn on the backside – it read _Capitalism Stinks!_ with the Powerpuff Girls beside the text, holding their noses – and shoved her feet into a pair of flip flops that were barely still functional, one of the straps held together with duct tape.

She looked like she’d been in a fight. She walked down to her car and didn’t bother checking for a bomb under it. If they wanted her dead, she’d be dead already.

She went to the movies, rolled into a blockbuster twenty minutes into its story and ate popcorn, staring at the back of people’s heads instead of the screen in front of her.

She was empty. She’d been hollowed out.

-

The bruises faded to an ugly yellow. She didn’t know if she had a broken rib, but she figured that the pain lessening was a good sign. She didn’t want to go to a hospital or doctor.

She checked the money in her bank account, saw it was more or less the same as before she was taken by Ross. She had a month of rent and a tiny bit more for groceries. She needed to get a job or disappear. When she tried to sleep, it was tempting to choose the latter.

She thought about buying sleeping pills, tying a noose… and then she wanted to slap herself for letting her mind go that far. She didn’t want to die, she just wanted a way out. That was Ross’ power, he’d left her helpless. She thought of her mother every time she considered oblivion. She thought of Steve, and how he’d never forgive himself.

Her moods changed by the hour. She hated the hopelessness because it dulled every colour, it made every new day seem impossibly hard to endure, but the anger was what scared her the most.

The inconsolable fury that made it impossible for her to sit still. She didn’t even know what she was so mad about – because it wasn’t just Ross…

She bought a bottle of vodka, sipping it in the park while she contemplated her new Best Buy purchase. If she called Steve, she had no idea what she’d say. She might curse him out at the top of her lungs, cause some kind of scene. She didn’t want to risk it again, the beatings and the isolation…

She went home, a little buzzed, when it got dark and the park was empty except for herself and a vagrant rummaging through the trash.

She walked all the way home, the night air enough to sober her by the time she reached her door. She hadn’t seen Gerald for days.

She shouldn’t have gone to Dallas. She should have kept her head down and tried to forget Steve. She closed her eyes briefly as she shoved her key in her door, letting herself in.

She shut the door, kicked off her flip flops, walked into the living room to toss her keys on the table. She turned on the TV and opened her laptop. She needed to apply for some jobs, get her name out there. She couldn’t lose this apartment, no matter how much she hated living there. She sighed, trying to muster the courage to cook something but closed her eyes, too tired. She’d do something with ramen and call it a night.

She walked into the kitchen and flipped on the light, finding a figure standing there and she screamed.

Steve came toward her, his eyes wide while Darcy’s chest was heaving. He looked more or less the same, hair and beard long, his tac gear dirty and worn, the outline of his star still visible even beneath the dirt.

“Darcy –”

“What the fuck,” she gasped. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

She hadn’t considered a reunion a possible thing anymore. She thought about how he managed to get in her apartment without her knowing. Nat had to have helped him. She hadn’t noted any vehicles hanging around.

“What did he do to you?” Steve said, and she remembered the bruises that littered her body.

He looked horrified, his hands reaching for her arms, studying her skin.

“What did he do?” he said again, his voice hushed.

“You have to leave,” she whispered, feeling the tears begin to well in her eyes. “They’ll come back, they’ll catch you and me… You can’t be here.”

He took her face in his hands, shaking his head. “I swept the place. It’s clean.”

“You can’t be here,” she whispered again, and she began to cry. “Leave me…”

He pressed a kiss to her forehead, a shaky breath falling from his lips.

“I am so sorry. I’m so sorry for everythin’…”

He sounded choked up but Darcy tried to push it away, tried to think about herself for once. She couldn’t do this again. She couldn’t get caught up in the moment and not think about the next morning, the next several mornings.

“Steve, let me go.”

He moved back, his hands dropping to his sides.

“What happened?” he asked, and Darcy swallowed a couple times, avoiding his gaze.

“Go sit down, I’ll go make us some tea.”

He obeyed, and she thought about it being another hallucination, but she could hear him sitting down on the couch, the TV playing in the background as she busied herself with mugs and teabags. Her life was a mess and she was making tea. Her sanity was hanging by a thread and she was telling her boyfriend to sit down on the couch.

Was she about to break up with him? She really didn’t know. She felt her guts churn as she waited for the water to boil. She poured into the mugs and took them out, putting them both down on the coffee table.

Steve had never been to her place before. The thought only now occurred to her. He was looking around at the picture frames she had of herself with Jane and her mom. There was the picture she took of Thor on her phone against a wall, the frame in the shape of a puffy star.

“Thank you,” Steve murmured, but he didn’t pick up his mug.

There was a heavy silence and Darcy remembered the last time they spoke, how he said he’d hear from her again in two days. She took hold of her mug, only to place it back down again.

“The day after I called, I was taken by Ross and some of his guys,” she murmured. “He kept me for three days, threatening me with an indictment, had me beaten…”

She saw Steve reach for her but she held up a hand.

“I sent my mom away like Nat advised. I did everything according to plan. I’m pretty sure I only got out because Ross didn’t want to keep a random girl he couldn’t get information from.”

“That son of a bitch,” Steve whispered, shaking his head. “I should never have –”

“What, Steve?” Darcy snapped, and he stared at her. “I’m just as guilty. I couldn’t help myself. Me and my stupid crush…”

She knew it was more than that. They both knew. She was in love with Steve, and she had no idea how long that had been. She hated herself a little for trying to cheapen it, but she didn’t know what to do with this anger that rose up in her.

“I’m so fucking mad.”

Steve opened his mouth but she glared at him, shaking her head.

“No. I’m not mad at you. I knew exactly who you were, and yet I still did this. I wrote my death warrant. I’m so fucking angry at myself for doing this. This is the dumbest thing I’ve ever done, and I’ve made some _fucking_ mistakes…”

Steve passed a hand over his face and she felt her chest tighten at the sight. He shut his eyes briefly, sighing.

“Nat thinks Ross was the one who took you, not HYDRA,” he murmured. “To lure me out. Because he knew I’d come running.”

Knowing the man Ross was, Darcy was surprised she hadn’t thought of the possibility herself. She’d been too busy dealing with everything else. She stared at Steve.

“So what do I do? Can I talk to Tony Stark?”

“We don’t have any evidence to prove that Ross would do such a thing,” Steve muttered, sounding annoyed. “I’m… fuckin’ useless to you right now.”

His eyes swung to meet hers. “But I can stop this.”

Darcy let out a huff, and maybe she’d be hurt if she wasn’t fucking livid, her whole body starting to shake.

“You came all this way to break up with me?” she hissed.

“I wanted to check on you, since you haven’t been online or callin’,” Steve said, his face grim. “I can’t do this anymore, I can’t put your life on the line. It’s selfish and reckless.”

_“It already fucking happened!”_ Darcy screamed, and he blanched, his face twisting in anguish. “I’ve already got the bruises.”

She knew she sounded hysterical, but she was beyond caring about that anymore. She didn’t care what she looked like to Steve, either.

“You’re right…”

He moved to stand but Darcy was quicker, her voice like ice.

“Sit the fuck down, Steve!”

He obliged, and there was a flash of something in his eyes. They both stared at one another for several seconds, until Darcy moved toward him with one single purpose – to possess him entirely.

She was pulled into his arms when she touched his shoulder and he caught her in a rough kiss, both of them groaning on impact, his tongue hot and sweeping into her mouth a second later.

She missed him. Fuck, she missed him so badly, despite squashing it down with rationality and pure terror. This man would be the death of her, because he almost had been, and she couldn’t see herself ever stopping this feeling of longing.

“Don’t stop,” she gasped, his hands going to her shorts, his mouth pressed to her neck.

They both whimpered, frustrated that both of them were still wearing clothes instead of only their skin. She nearly tore her nails trying to get his suit off, her lower half bare as she kicked off her cutoffs and underwear.

She remembered the scent of him in his hair and skin, the taste of his tongue in her mouth. She remembered his beard scratching her face. He sucked her tongue into his mouth, shuffling so he could hold her in his lap.

She felt impaled on his cock, the air leaving her in a rush, gasping from the sudden sensation of being full to the brim.

“Fuck,” she gasped. “Steve… fuck…. Please…”

He cut her off with another smothering kiss, wrapping his arm around her to keep her in place as he fucked her in sharp thrusts.

She was already so close, her whole body tightening with each drag of his cock, his hand going to where they joined.

“I got you,” he whispered. “I got you…”

She flew, coming so hard she began to cry, Steve following her soon after. She panted for air, her chest tight. He held her as she sobbed into his neck, stroking her hair.

-

Darcy left her phone behind, sending off a text to her mom and Jane, saying she hoped they were well but she was going on a sabbatical. She bought three nights’ accommodation at a yoga retreat in Joshua tree with her credit card.

Steve helped her pack the bare essentials, any mementos she couldn’t part with, and they left within an hour of cleaning up.

She left the car in the apartment complex parking lot, walking out the door alone after Steve took a swift exit through her window.

They met up an hour later, Darcy letting them into a hotel room by a truck stop on the edge of town. They had several hours until Nat was going to pick them up in the daytime.

Darcy couldn’t sleep, instead lay on her back staring into the darkness, hearing Steve’s steady breathing next to her. He didn’t sleep either, as far as she could tell.

They didn’t talk about the sex on her couch, but it felt as though they’d come to an understanding. He could no longer leave Darcy behind, at least in a society where he was a wanted man.

The next morning, Darcy got up to splash water on her face and she heard Steve sit up and stretch, the bed creaking from his weight.

She walked back into the bedroom and saw him sitting with his feet flat on the ground, staring up at her.

“After today,” she began, and she walked over to stand in front of him, taking his face in her hands. “We’re going to be okay.”

Neither of them knew that for sure but he nodded, pressing a kiss to her palm. He dropped his gaze, taking a deep breath.

“Darcy…”

He took her hands away from his face, squeezing them.

“I love you.”

She nodded, seeing his throat bob with emotion, his eyes changing. He had the same look in his eye when he brought her back from the base.

“I love you, too,” she whispered.

They kissed, and he made a sound against her mouth, his hands transferring to her hair. When they broke apart, he stroked her face.

“We have to go,” she whispered, and he nodded, his jaw tightening.

They promised to meet out back, Steve’s tac suit stuffed in a backpack. He wore ordinary, baggy clothes she scrounged from her drawers in her apartment, left behind by an ex months and months ago. He could look good in anything, even in an ill-fitting _Yeezus_ tour t-shirt and stained sweatpants.

She went to check out, paying with cash, adding extra for the tip jar. She had no intention of having money on her person much longer. She longed to shed herself of all possessions, to walk into the desert with Steve and never return.

Someone must have seen them. Someone talked. Someone called someone who was patched through to one of the guys under General Ross.

Darcy knew there was a high chance of that happening. They must have been followed from her apartment, but she recognized the man who was waiting for them at the bus station, his perfect white teeth flashing as he nodded at Darcy.

“Miss Lewis? Come this way.”

Gerald wore a baseball cap, his hand in his jacket. Darcy remembered her gun. Ross hadn’t taken that – maybe he hoped she stuck it in her mouth when the nights got too long.

She froze, trying to sense where Steve could be. Maybe he’d already been caught on his way to their meeting place.

Gerald jutted his chin.

“Come on.”

She obeyed, only because she knew there was no point running. She thought about grabbing that pistol she had strapped to her side and opening fire. She didn’t want anyone else to get hurt.

Gerald walked behind her, and they weaved through the parked cars in the parking lot, until he took hold of her elbow, steering her to a sedan he unlocked. He opened the passenger’s seat, moving precisely to the other side, slipping into the driver’s seat.

“Where are we going?”

“You’re taking me to Rogers,” he said.

“Who?”

Gerald smiled. “Oh, honey. We’re way past that. I paid every hotel in town to call me the second you stayed there. Every manager in New Mexico has your picture to look out for you.”

Darcy felt like someone had run their finger down her spine and she closed her eyes, trying to keep her breathing steady.

“Where is Rogers?”

“Not here,” she whispered.

“That’s a lie. Where are you going?”

She needed to get him somewhere remote. She needed time. She needed to reach into her jacket and pull out her gun.

“You don’t have to do this,” she whispered. She was saying it to herself, but Gerald chuckled, starting the engine.

“We’re going to call him,” he said, nodding at the glove compartment in front of her.

Darcy opened it, seeing a phone inside. She took it out, pressing the on switch. It came to life as Gerald pulled out of their spot, taking off.

She tried to think of what to do. She should have thought of a code word, something to tell Steve so that he’d run in the other direction as fast as possible. She could feel the tension building as she stared down at the phone, unsure of what to do.

“Call him.”

“I can’t remember –”

“We both know you know the number, hon,” he said, and Darcy heard him adjusting his grip on his pistol. He was driving one-handed. “So call him or I’ll shoot your brains out.”

“Why don’t you just kill me,” she muttered, her voice flat.

He gave a short sigh, but he didn’t sound overly troubled. “Fine. If you don’t call him, I’ll kill Jane Foster and your mother Rachel.”

She didn’t know who he worked for, but she was certain he was serious by what he said next:

“Rachel will be docking in Prague in four hours,” he said. “I can alert Interpol within minutes if you refuse. Ross will put you on a terror watchlist within the hour.”

Darcy began to dial Steve’s number, messing it up twice before she managed to do it correctly, pressing the phone to her ear.

“Darcy? What happened?”

“We need to meet up. I’m having second thoughts,” she said, trying to keep her tone level.

She squeezed her eyes shut, picturing the cogs in his mind turning, his eyes changing a shade when he realized his girl was in trouble.

Because she was that, his girl.

“I don’t want to do this on the phone.”

“Okay. There’s a diner. We’ll meet out back.”

He fired off an address and she repeated it out loud, and Gerald turned a corner, already changing direction.

“Sort of hoped we’d get…” Darcy took a deep breath. “Home fries.”

“Sure,” Steve replied, his voice gruff.

He sounded like he was ready to beat Gerald to death with his bare hands. Darcy hung up, shoving the phone away.

They drove in dead silence, arriving at the diner fifteen minutes later. Darcy kept glancing at the clock in the car, noting that they were going to miss Nat’s extraction at the rate they were going. She tried to not visibly panic any more than she already was.

Gerald parked the car and he took Darcy by the elbow again, pushing her in front.

“He told me to meet him out back,” she whispered, and Gerald steered her with the hard metal of his pistol jabbing her back.

“Okay. I hope you’ve done the right thing, hon. It’s all over, now…”

They went around the back and Darcy saw it was empty except for a dumpster and a silver Nissan Pulsar parked in the manager’s parking spot.

Gerald let out a sigh.

“Oh, honey. That’s that, then,” he murmured, and Darcy heard the rattle of metal and looked behind her, seeing Gerald produce a pair of cuffs.

He managed to latch her left wrist before Steve reached him, smacking him up the side of his face, causing him to stumble.

He held up his pistol, his eyes wild, pointing it at Steve.

“Kneel.”

“I won’t,” Steve said, but his hands were up. “If you’re gonna shoot me, you’re gonna have to do it while I’m standing.”

“It’s over, Captain. You’ve had a good run, but it’s over. Think about what you’ve put this girl through,” Gerald said.

His happy-go-lucky demeanor had finally gone, leaving someone as fierce as Ross. He almost looked smug as he kept the gun trained on Steve.

“I have thought about it,” Steve said. “But I don’t think you give her enough credit. None of you do.”

“I hacked SHIELD,” Darcy added, and Gerald narrowed his eyes at her. “My GPA was 3.9. I was fucking voted Most Likely to Succeed.”

“And now you’re throwing it all away,” Gerald said.

“Maybe,” she said with a shrug. “But at least I didn’t torture a helpless woman for no reason.”

“That’s enough talking, Miss,” Gerald said, and he moved toward Steve. “I said, _kneel _–”

He smacked Steve across the face and he fell to his knees, a mark blooming on his face, his eyes squeezed shut.

Darcy went for her pistol, and Gerald let out a growl.

“Put that gun down!”

“No! Let him go!” she yelled. “Don’t do this. Don’t make me do this.”

He pressed the gun to Steve’s head and Darcy squeezed the trigger.

Time seemed to freeze and Gerald keeled over, Steve’s hands still up, his eyes wide. Darcy stared at the blood and brains that sprayed them both, her heart in her throat.

“I had to,” she whispered. “I had to…”

Steve got up, coming toward her, pressing a kiss to her lips.

“Gimme the gun.”

He wiped it awkwardly, before taking it in his hands, making sure his prints covered it. Darcy moved toward Gerald, inspecting him, reaching for his car keys.

“We have to go,” Steve said, shoving the gun in the back of his pants. “Someone would’ve heard that.”

Darcy felt herself nod, but didn’t remember taking off in a run. She found herself in the passenger’s seat of the sedan, gasping for breath.

“We’ll be okay,” Steve was saying.

He clutched her hand, and Darcy nodded again, feeling herself begin to slip away once more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **grimeysociety**: Darcy being tortured for three days is sort of freeing, writing-wise  
**sarahbeniel**: Darcy whump  
**grimeysociety**: Yep
> 
> [my Tumblr](http://grimeysociety.tumblr.com/)


	4. iv.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm giving you fair warning - this is an emotional mess. NSFW.

_All my heroes got tired_  
_And all the days, they got short_  
_And a love that I dreamt of_  
_Came to me at my worst_  
\- "**All My Heroes" by Bleachers**

_Damn, I'm in it_  
_And I've been trying to find my way back for a minute_  
_'Cause now I'm in it_  
_And I've been trying to find my way back for a minute_  
_And the rain keeps coming down along the ceiling_  
_And I can hear it_  
_But I can't feel it_  
\- **"Now I'm In It" by HAIM**

_Can you see me? I'm waiting for the right time_  
_I can't read you but, if you want, the pleasure's all mine_  
_Can you see me using everything to hold back?_  
_I guess this could be worse_  
_Walking out the door with your bags_  
\- **"Bags" by Clairo**

**iv.**

She saw Natasha take her in, her brow pinched at the sight of Darcy’s bruises, the blood stains on her face and clothes.

They met her at the pickup point ten minutes late, but by the look on Nat’s face, she wasn’t going to demand an explanation. They left Gerald’s sedan several streets away and jogged together to the SUV Nat sat in. Steve opened the backseat door for Darcy and she jumped in, shuffling to the other side while Steve landed beside her, slamming the door.

“Go,” he said to Nat, and she took off with a screech of the tires, glancing at them through the rear view mirror.

“You guys okay?”

“Yeah,” Steve breathed.

He glanced at the cuffs that hung off of Darcy’s wrist and promptly snapped them off with his hands, tossing them out the window as far as he could throw them.

Nat was speeding through to the edge of town while Steve ripped off his t-shirt to wipe Darcy’s face and then his, grabbing his uniform from the backpack between them.

Darcy was having trouble being present. She had the distinct feeling of not knowing the weight of her legs – she knew she was sitting there, rocking from side to side as Nat drove like it was NASCAR, but she couldn’t make herself snap out of it.

She’d just killed a federal agent. She knew she had to, he was going to shoot Steve, but she couldn’t quite believe what she’d done. She looked down at her hands, seeing her nails were dirty and a couple of them were broken, her thumb’s cuticle split.

“Darcy!”

Her eyes snapped to meet Nat’s in the rear view mirror, and she realized the spy had been trying to reach her for some time.

“We’re heading to the jet and then we’ll get you back to base. Can you hear me?”

“Yes,” she hissed, squeezing her eyes shut a second later in regret, sighing. “Sorry.”

There was a silence and she turned to Steve, seeing him already watching her, his brow furrowed. She moved closer, his arm wrapping around her shoulders. He kissed her forehead, cupping her face with his other hand.

Darcy knew he was trying to do the right thing. They hadn’t planned for Gerald well enough. They hadn’t planned any of this well at all. She imagined Nat would be grilling him if she wasn’t there.

“Sorry for… being late,” Darcy mumbled, and Nat overtook someone, speeding up more than ever. “Someone followed us, we had to… I had to –”

“There was a situation?” Nat finished, and Darcy nodded.

“He was going to shoot Steve.”

Her voice broke and she sucked in a shaky breath.

“Jesus, what about my mom? Are they gonna find her and throw her in jail? What about Jane?”

She felt the tears begin to fall. She could feel a headache coming on, either from lack of sleep or frustration or sheer terror – there was just too much in her brain for her to process it all.

“Gerald said he knew where my mom was gonna be in four hours. He’d know where Jane was, too–”

“I checked that guy out, he’s a contract guy. He’s not on anyone’s books,” Nat cut in, but Darcy appreciated the interruption of her blabbering.

“He bribed everyone in town to call him if I showed up at their hotel,” Darcy whispered, a little exasperated. “But he didn’t take my gun…”

“Maybe he didn’t know about it,” Nat said. “These guys weren’t too smart about you. They assumed you wouldn’t defend yourself, especially after being shaken up –”

“Shaken up?” Darcy repeated, and Steve squeezed her shoulder. “Is that what you call it? What about if I was shackled to a wall and flogged? Would you call that a persuasion technique?”

Nat met her eye. “Is that what happened?”

“No, I’m just being an asshole,” Darcy retorted.

She felt a little bad, but then she remembered that Nat was dating Bucky. She was sure that guy had a truckload of issues she had to deal with up close. It wasn’t Nat’s fault that her language sounded insensitive.

“Either way, you’re going to the base hospital,” Steve said, and Darcy began shaking her head.

“No. I’m fine. Nothing’s broken…”

“What about your ribs?” Nat said, as if reading her mind. “They could be cracked.”

“They stopped hurting so much…”

“Just because the pain stops doesn’t mean the injury’s gone,” Nat retorted. “It could mean you stopped sending signals to your brain.”

Darcy went silent, closing her eyes.

The rest of the ride to the field where the jet sat was tense, Steve’s hands never leaving her, Nat’s driving swift and precise but nonetheless nauseating.

“We’ve got three minutes until the authorities tip off anyone,” Nat said, pressing the earpiece she wore. “Let’s go.”

The run over to the jet was awkward. Darcy knew Steve was slowing down for her, to make sure she could reach the jet. When they got to the door, Sam grabbed her by the arm to pull her up.

“Lewis, ‘sup?”

He wasn’t acting as if this were a dire situation, which she supposed might help. It could touch the tension. It still felt a little wrong to try to smile, but she did. Then she moved toward him and hugged him, feeling her chest tighten.

Sam moved his face to the side to kiss her cheek.

“You gotta sit down, sweetheart,” Sam murmured, and Darcy nodded into his shoulder. “Seatbelts and everything.”

She moved back, wiping her eyes wordlessly, nodding and taking Steve’s hand again. She slipped into the seat beside his, Sam and Steve helping her put her seatbelt on.

She was rubbed raw, exposed like nothing she’d ever felt before.

-

They landed a few hours later and Darcy took Steve’s hand again, walking with them across the tarmac. Nat and Sam kept glancing back to check on her. It was an entirely different feeling to the last time she was there.

The last time, she knew she was leaving. She knew this wasn’t in any sense temporary.

Nat nodded at her. “We’ll sign you in, get you cleaned up and looked at.”

“Eat something, too,” Sam piped up, and Darcy felt her lips quirk slightly at his smile.

The base seemed to be in the middle of the ocean. In broad daylight, she could make out the horizon all around, the deep blue of the sea surrounding. She still wouldn’t be able to give anyone much more information to work with, except she knew there were people who could deduce from a simple description of Steve’s secret base being like a remote island roughly where he was.

She signed her name with her finger beside her typed details in the kiosk, looking up at Steve when she was done.

“I’ll get you a sandwich,” Sam said, and she nodded.

Nat pressed her plush lips together and Darcy nodded at her, too. The spy fell into step with her and Steve, walking down a corridor while Sam departed for the mess hall.

The elevator ride was quiet, and Darcy shivered from the blast of the AC on her arms.

They walked through some glass doors and saw a few physicians in varying shades of pastel, some of them wearing white coats over their scrubs. There only seemed to be one other person being attended to, and they promptly left at the sight of Darcy. She wondered if there had been some kind of stern warning from Nat ahead of time for everyone to give their new resident space.

He saluted Steve before departing, a couple of his fingers bandaged. One of the white coats came over, a middle-aged woman with horn-rimmed glasses.

“Hi, I’m Doctor Patel,” she said. “This is Darcy?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Steve said, and she smiled at Darcy.

“We’re happy to help. I think we’ll start with a full examination.”

Darcy was shown a bed and a curtain was drawn around her. She stared at the pile of clothes that waited for her at the foot of the bed. She moved her hand to reach for them but stopped.

“Steve?” she called out, and he appeared a second later, parting the curtain to let himself inside.

“I can’t do it,” she whispered, and then she shook her head, frustrating. “It’s like my brain won’t… I can’t make it work.”

“It’s okay,” he said, his voice soft. He dropped to the floor, taking one of her ankles to lift her foot, tugging off her shoe.

He did the same with the other as Darcy rested both hands on his broad shoulders. He rose up to help her pull off her shirt, then her bra. Her pants were next, then her underwear. He helped put on the smock and tie it at the back, before patting the bed for her to sit down.

“Okay?” he whispered, and she nodded, her throat tight.

He slipped out again and the curtain was drawn back. Nat was standing with her arms crossed, watching as the doctors bustled around, ordering different tests.

Dr. Patel seemed to be the one in charge, flipping the papers she had on a clipboard, jotting down the date and Darcy’s name.

“I need to ask about the injuries sustained when you were held by General Ross,” she murmured, glancing up to meet Darcy’s gaze. “Is it okay if we touch you?”

“Um,” Darcy said, considering for second to bail out of the examination.

She looked at Steve.

“She’s having some executive dysfunction,” he said, and she nodded, grateful she didn’t have to explain. He looked at her again. “You wanna stop?”

“I…” Darcy began, then dropped her head, shaking it. She cleared her throat. “I got beaten up pretty bad. I don’t want… I don’t know if touching’s a good idea.”

She looked at Dr. Patel.

“But I wanna try.”

“You let me know if at any point you’re not comfortable,” she said, her voice firm. “Okay?”

Darcy nodded.

They began with checking if she knew what day it was, then what month. They took her blood, looked inside her mouth and at the blood vessels in her eyes.

“Darcy, we need to see all the bruises,” Dr. Patel said. “I’m going to need to see your back and chest.”

Darcy felt her heart in her throat. She thought of being held and then thrown. It must have shown on her face, because Steve reached for her hand to squeeze it.

Dr. Patel waved off the rest of the physicians, drawing the curtain around the bed again, leaving Steve with her and Darcy, Nat on the other side.

Darcy lifted her arms to reach for the ties at her back and neck, but Steve took over. She felt another wave of exhaustion, her body deflating. She covered her breasts with her hands and felt Dr. Patel’s hands carefully trace the marks.

“What happened?” she asked in a low voice.

“Walling, kicking,” Steve said, and the doctor let out a breath.

“We’ll need to do some scans,” she murmured.

Darcy dropped her arms, focusing on a space on the floor. She heard Dr. Patel say her name and she shook her head, slipping back into the room.

“What?”

“Are you pregnant?”

“God, no,” she whispered, shaking her head. “Why?”

“Any medication I might give you, I don’t want to affect an unborn baby.”

She nodded, feeling the heat rise in her cheeks for the first time. She covered her chest again, and Dr. Patel capped her pen.

“We’ll get a CT scan for your ribs,” she said. “Then you can rest.”

“Thank you, ma’am,” Steve said, and she flashed a smile.

They were left alone and Steve helped her put her smock back on and tie it, pressing a kiss to her cheek when he was done. She put up a hand to touch his face.

She regretted her outburst of _God, no_ at the pregnancy question, but it had been automatic. She hope Steve didn’t take it to heart.

“Hey, Lewis, you want your sandwich?”

Sam’s voice called to her and she cleared her throat, looking away from Steve.

“Yeah. Just a sec.”

She ended up eating it while she waited for the CT scan. Afterwards, Dr. Patel held up the results, indicating a couple little spots on Darcy’s ribs.

“As suspected, two cracked ribs. I’ll prescribe you pain meds, but no wrapping the area. We don’t want you getting pneumonia.”

She walked back to the elevator with Sam, Steve and Nat wearing her old clothes, Steve’s hand on her shoulder as they waited.

“Nap time?” Sam said, and she nodded, already yawning.

She didn’t think she could sleep, but once she took the Vicodin with Steve in his little apartment kitchen, it was only a matter of minutes before her eyelids were too heavy to keep open.

He scooped her up, carrying her down the hallway to his bed. He lay her down, sitting beside her as he stroked her hair, watching her begin to fade.

“You saved my life, Darce,” he whispered. “We need to nip that one in the bud. Don’t want it to become a habit of yours…”

Darcy tried mumbling something in retort but she couldn’t form the words. She surrendered, allowing herself to slip into the darkness, allowing herself to finally rest.

-

She saw Steve standing over her, stroking her face. It looked darker all around. She knew it had to be much later in the day, most likely past dinnertime.

She felt a sharp pain in her side and she gave a soft groan. A pill was pressed into her hand and she put it in her mouth, holding out her hand again for the glass of water she then put to her lips.

“I don’t think you can ignore the pain anymore,” he murmured.

She knew he was right. The initial shock of the last day had worn off enough for her to feel her body once more, and her ribs could no longer go unnoticed.

She settled back down when she swallowed the pill, feeling like a weight was pressing onto her chest, keeping her pinned to Steve’s bed.

He sat beside her, stroking her hair.

“Steve…”

Her sentence trailed off, the edges of her vision growing darker. She couldn’t fight it…

-

Gerald wrapped his fingers around her throat, and Darcy’s pulse throbbed so hard she thought she’d explode. Her airway was cut off and she couldn’t get his fingers off, he was too strong.

“You chose this, honey. This is what you get. This is all you’ll know...”

She tried in vain to speak, to explain, to beg him to let her go.

She was ripped from the dream, jolting awake, her hands going to her neck. Her heart raced, the walls of Steve’s bedroom coming back to her. The air smelt stale and she glanced around, seeing she was alone.

“Steve?”

She heard him moving down the hallway, and she smelt coffee wafting in from the kitchen. She watched him take her in, walking over to her side of the bed. She must have kicked off her blankets, they were down to her ankles, and she felt cold. She’d been sweating.

“I had a bad dream,” she whispered, feeling like a child.

“You’re here,” he replied, kissing her damp forehead. “Okay? You’re here.”

“Yeah,” she mumbled, feeling her throat was dry as she tried to swallow. “Is it tomorrow? I mean, did I sleep through the night?”

“Yeah,” he said, sitting down and holding her hand. “You were going in and out of it, but I think you got a decent rest. Hopefully.”

She could see in his eyes that his mind was clouded with all types of thoughts, not many of them good. She knew it was more than guilt. There was shame there. She didn’t mean to exacerbate it, but there was no running from what she’d been through. The evidence was on her body, in the very cartilage of her insides.

“I’ll get you coffee,” he said, breaking the silence.

“I’ll come with you,” she replied, more hastily than she intended.

She followed him out, touching her side. He’d put on quite the spread, anticipating her waking at some point. There were croissants, strawberries and blueberries and little pots of jelly and a butter dish. She was more interested in the French press, the source of the rich coffee aroma.

She poured herself a cup of coffee and Steve tried pushing a plate toward her. She put some fruit on it and popped a blueberry in her mouth, before sipping her coffee.

She didn’t bother to sit. She closed her eyes for a second, treasuring the simple comfort of the warm drink she remembered.

“You should eat somethin’ for your stomach, the pills and everythin’,” he murmured, and she saw him nod at the croissants.

She picked one up and took a bite. The flaky, oily texture of the pastry wasn’t as enticing as she thought it would be. She usually ate those in thirty seconds flat.

“I should shower,” she said, putting down the pastry, swiping a crumb from her lips. “And then I think I’ll need a notepad and some pens.”

“What for?” Steve asked, his frown returning.

She took another gulp of coffee, turning away to make her way down the hallway. She glanced over her shoulder as she walked into the bathroom, Steve following her.

“I want to write down a statement. Everything that happened when I was in that basement with Ross and his guys.”

“Darcy, you don’t have to keep movin’ so fast,” she heard Steve reply, and she tugged her shirt off, throwing it on the floor. “You need a second to breathe. Slow down. Rest.”

“I think I just slept through most of yesterday. It’s, what, eleven AM right now?”

“Ten-thirty,” Steve replied, and she pulled down her pants, rolling her eyes.

“Yeah, that’s a big difference…”

“Darce,” he said, reaching for her hand, forcing her to acknowledge him properly. “No-one’s expecting you to keep this up.”

“Keep what up?” she said, blinking up at him.

She moved to open the shower door and he let go of her, dropping his hand to his side.

“Nothin’,” he murmured, his jaw ticking.

She reached inside the stall and switched on the water, stepping inside a moment later. She adjusted the temperature, pulling the door shut to stop water getting out. She could sense he was still there, standing in the space they shared before.

“Steve,” she called, and she saw his head turn toward her in the corner of her eye.

“What?”

“Are you coming in, or what?”

She waited for an answer, closing her eyes, stepping under the showerhead to wet her face and head, rubbing her face.

She felt his hands on her waist, coming up behind her. He’d opened the door so quietly that she hadn’t heard him come in.

She turned, seeing his eyes were darker, his brow still furrowed. He wore the brooding, rugged look so well that Darcy could feel the desire pooling in her guts, between her thighs, and he hadn’t even touched her anywhere interesting yet.

His lips parted when she reached between them for his cock, stroking him slow with her wet hand, before rubbing the tip with her thumb. He twitched, fattening in her palm, hard for her in seconds.

She felt a flare of pain and pushed through it, but Steve caught her eye, his hand moving to cup her face.

“Keep going,” she whispered. She was barely keeping the desperation out of her tone.

He sealed his mouth over hers and pushed her back, crowding her against the tiled wall. She immediately was reminded of the basement, pinned there by strangers’ hands, but she reminded herself that this man _could_ hurt her, but he never would.

His tongue slipping into her mouth made her moan, still stroking his cock between them. The angle wasn’t ideal, especially with it pressing into her stomach, but she was determined, and the breathy sounds Steve made was her reward.

She expected no pretence like the last time, urgent and fast fucking, but he knelt, his thumbs opening her for his mouth to latch onto her clit. It happened so fast that Darcy froze up for several seconds, her hands hovering until she managed to drop them to rest in Steve’s hair.

Her eyes fell shut, trying to focus on his lips and tongue caressing her, making her tingle down to her toes. She moaned, the sound echoing in the shower stall with the sounds of the water running.

The way he lapped at her, pressing a couple fingers inside her to the third knuckle and curling them, the way he moved against her, Darcy felt like he was offering her something.

He moved with the reverence of worship, moaning against her cunt, his beard delightful as the bristles rubbed her sensitive skin. He was putting everything into it, so Darcy decided to let go. One of her hands left his hair to slam against the wall behind her, his head moving up and down, his fingers working in time to his hot tongue.

He found her G-spot – or more, he finally acknowledged it, because she knew he didn’t forget that since Dallas, or the last time she was at the base. He pressed down, flicking his tongue over her clit, sucking it and repeating the motion, and Darcy’s head fell back against the wall, feeling the pressure build as she wailed.

She felt like it was wrenched out of her, her hand scrambling as she came, and it was almost too much – reaching the edges of her, making her legs ache from tensing so hard. She touched her ribs, panting through the aftershocks, Steve’s fingers leaving her.

He stood up, sucking his fingers into his mouth before lifting her, wrapping her legs around his middle. She slid up the wall, fuckdrunk and stupid, feeling her cunt still twitching as he rubbed the crown of his cock against her.

She made sure to keep her eyes open and glued to his when he pushed inside, both of them groaning. They stayed still for several seconds as she leaned down to kiss him, her hands on either side of his face.

He was both gentle and rough, like usual, but his eyes were different. There were those dark thoughts again, the intermingling strength, pain and beauty in him that Darcy could never shake.

“Darcy,” he breathed, and she kissed him again, his thrusts slow and hard, knocking her into the wall with each merciless roll of his hips.

She knew it wasn’t only remorse that burdened him. She could see it in his eyes, she could feel it in his touch. He was offering her everything, and he was so afraid that he’d lose her. Not because he couldn’t keep her safe – she knew this base was secure, otherwise she would have never been brought there- but because he was afraid she’d leave him.

She told him she loved him. Maybe that wasn’t enough, or maybe he needed to hear it more than once.

They tended to speak more during sex. It was usually more combative, too, and so entertaining. She remembered him calling her tight and fucking her into the mattress the first time. Maybe he thought it was the only night they’d have together. This version of sex was lovemaking, in all its stark vulnerability, and it was terrifying.

And maybe Darcy had always been in the wrong business, because she considered herself pretty sensitive, more sensitive than most people. Her heart was battered, thumping in her chest as the realization came to her, that she was in so much danger, and not just in the physical sense.

“I love you,” she whispered, her voice betraying her, wobbling as Steve’s face changed. “I love you and I won’t leave you. I promise. I promise I’ll never leave you.”

“Don’t,” he whispered back, and he squeezed his eyes shut, overcome. “Don’t make yourself say that.”

“I want to,” she retorted, clutching his face, forcing him to look at her again. “I want to say it. I love you so fucking much.”

He stared at her, glassy-eyed, before pressing a searing kiss to her mouth, his hips picking up speed. He stopped holding back, especially when Darcy breathed:

“Come for me. Come for me…”

He slammed into her again and again, with no reprieve, not until his orgasm stalled his hips, shoving up into her and kissing her breathless.

They panted, Steve pulling back, Darcy’s feet setting down on the floor. She moved out from under him, slow and unsteady on her shaking legs. She went to sit on the toilet, staring at the floor as Steve stayed in the shower. She flushed, grabbing a towel to dry herself as she walked back to his bedroom.

She felt his hands again, and she turned, his hands unfastening the towel that covered her chest and lower half. It fell to the floor and he kissed her again, with a heat that made Darcy dizzy. She shuffled, the back of her knees hitting the mattress before she lay down, Steve climbing on top of her.

“More, more,” he whispered, and she nodded, gasping when he reached between her legs to play with her.

He was possessed with his lust, his longing. Darcy trembled under him, his hips sharp and fast like before, his finger pressing the side of her clit she favoured.

She held him afterwards, his face buried in her chest, her fingers tracing the hard muscles of his shoulders and back.

“I need that notebook,” she whispered, and he moved up, nodding.

-

She wrote it all down. What happened, how it felt, how she lost time, saw people who weren’t there. She wrote with a cramping hand, she wrote until she couldn’t anymore. She took breaks with sex and food and sleep and Vicodin.

She chose her words carefully as Steve sat with her during dinner, their plates full of pasta made clumsily by his hands, his intentions outweighing how poorly he cooked.

“I want to… build a case against Ross,” Darcy said, and she saw Steve process it in real time, his jaw ticking. She took a deep breath that produced a nagging pain in her ribs. “Tony should know the man whose Sokovia Accords he signed. I don’t care if he decided to kiss and make up with you, but Ross has probably tortured dozens or more people.”

She was thankful that her mother Rachel had been taken from the European cruise and placed in a safe house by Nat while Darcy wrote. She didn’t even ask for that. She knew Nat did it not because she was her ally, but because her mother was a human being.

Steve nodded, silent.

Darcy leaned over and took his hand in hers, threading their fingers together.

“Don’t think I forgot you wiped my gun the other day,” she said, and he blinked at her, remembering.

“Thought if someone stopped us, it’d be better if they thought I shot that guy.”

Darcy nodded, for she had already suspected it.

“Maybe I’ll do some target practise,” she murmured, and he gave a little smile. “If you can handle how hot and bothered it’ll make you.”

“Doubt it,” he replied, and she smiled, too. He glanced back at his food, picking up his fork. “Maybe when your ribs are a little more healed.”

-

She told him he could read the notebook. She thought it might help in finding out a way to prove it happened. If he was privy to every detail, he’d have an advantage. She should have thought it over, maybe given him the abridged version.

She had to navigate of being in love with Steve Rogers, someone else who turned out to feel so much more than most people.

She gave him the notebook, went to make a pot of tea, and walked back into the living room with it, finding him with his back to her, the notebook bend in the grip of his hand.

He was shaking.

“Hey,” she breathed, and she moved to place the mugs of tea down, kneeling to reach for his face. “It’s okay.”

He made a sound, and began to weep, squeezing his eyes shut as the tears fell. She wrapped her arms around him, pressing his face into her neck.

When he pulled back, he sniffled, shaking his head.

“I haven’t felt this way about someone in a… long, long time,” he began.

He bit back a sob, his hand cupping her face.

“Steve…”

“You can’t say this isn’t my fault, Darce,” he said, swiping at his nose. He cleared his throat. “You can’t deny being with me is why Ross happened. I ruined it for us before we even slept together the first time.”

“I wanted you,” Darcy said.

“You can’t –”

“Look at me,” she hissed, and he did, more tears spilling over. “I… _wanted_ you."

He nodded, and he pulled her toward him, cuddling her, the notebook falling to the floor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [my Tumblr](http://grimeysociety.tumblr.com/)


	5. v.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I tried writing the end to this three or four times. I spent hours going over and over what I wanted, what people would expect, what would "feel right"... and then I scrapped it all twice and wrote from the heart. I hope you like it. Thank you so much for reading! I'm hoping to write a Shieldshock story for Christmas, so keep an eye out for that one! I feel really weird that this is over... anyway, I love you! ❤

_And I'm by your side and I'm holding your hand_   
_Bright horses of wonder springing from your burning hand_

_And everyone has a heart and it's calling for something_   
_We're all so sick and tired of seeing things as they are_

\- **"Bright Horses" by Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds**

_Then I look at you_   
_And the world's alright with me_   
_Just one look at you_   
_And I know it's gonna be_   
_A lovely day_

\- **"Lovely Day" by Bill Withers**

_"That's Captain America you're after. He tends to inspire a certain amount of loyalty."_

\- **Maria Hill, Captain America: The Winter Soldier Deleted Scene**

**v.**

_Dear Mister Stark,_

_This story is true. As far as I know. _

_I can’t help myself, I had to get a joke in there somewhere before it all gets really heavy. _

_These types of events, as you would know, either destroy you or they change you. _

_Either way, nothing can ever be the same again._

-

Darcy woke to the sound of rain. She blinked in the dimmed space of Steve’s bedroom, lifting her head, seeing Steve’s eyes were closed, his breathing steady.

There was a low rumble of thunder and she sat up, drawing her knees into her chest, listening to the storm outside.

It was subdued. She wondered if she could see the waves rolling from the window. She moved from the mattress, pulling back the curtain to peek outside.

It was dark, the clouds inky black. No lightning, only the occasional thunder and the steady rain. She heard Steve take a deep breath and roll over, blinking up at her.

“You think it’s an omen?” she murmured, a little smile forming that Steve mimicked, rubbing his eyes.

“We’ll see how the day goes, then we’ll know for sure,” he replied, staring up at her through his long lashes.

She looked back outside, seeing the horizon, the deep blue of the sea. She still had no idea where they were, but this was the first time in weeks that she’d seen the rain.

“Come back to bed,” he whispered, and she glanced at him, letting the curtain fall back in place.

“I want coffee,” she replied. She moved to leave and Steve tilted his head.

“No, come back… Come back…”

She chuckled, moving down the hallway. She went into the kitchen and grabbed a spoonful of coconut yoghurt before chasing it with the first dose of Vicodin for the day.

She was two-thirds of the way through her recovery, starting to limit her pain meds to avoid dependency. There was less urgency, the pain more of a tightness than something sharp deep inside her.

She switched on the coffee machine and grabbed a pod from the little rack she’d procured after putting in a request. She liked the flavoured pods, she liked seeing Steve’s face when she first used the machine in front of him. Some things he hadn’t upgraded since the 1940s, but Darcy wasn’t happy with his crappy bean water, even though he made it with love.

She grabbed a plain white mug and pressed a couple buttons, the machine beginning to whir. As she predicted, she felt a body press up behind her, Steve’s hands reaching for her hips, his head ducking to kiss her neck.

She closed her eyes, swaying a little on the spot as he kissed down the column of her neck, reaching his hand around to slip under her shirt and move up to cup her breast, his other hand still curling its fingers into her hip.

He nipped her skin.

“Are you really up?” he murmured, and Darcy opened her eyes, smiling lazily.

She reached between them as he rolled her nipple, her hand traveling down his bare chest to his boxer briefs.

“_You’re_ up,” she replied.

She sucked in a breath as his hand on her hip dipped beneath the waistband of her pyjama shorts, cupping her mound and pressing his middle finger between the lips of her cunt.

“Fuck, Steve…”

“Good, so we’re on the same page.”

Steve edged toward smugness in his cheeky tone, sucking her neck as he played with her in little, slow circles, pinching her nipple.

“Do you know if Bucky’s like this?” Darcy whispered.

Steve chuckled a low rumble in his chest not unlike the distant thunder in the sky.

“You’re thinkin’ about Buck right now?” he retorted, “Have you tried askin’ Nat?”

Darcy had in fact tried asking if Bucky was the same as Steve – seeming to be hard for his girlfriend always, never getting quite enough of his fill. The spy had been tight-lipped about her relationship, but by the hint of a twinkle in her eye, Darcy had the feeling Bucky was making up for lost time, too.

“Who knew Captain America fucks like a rabbit…”

“I don’t hear you complaining,” he replied, his fingers slipping further, two of them curled inside her while he swiped her clit with his thumb. “In fact, I recall last night, a certain phrase…”

“I was compromised,” Darcy whispered, moaning a second later.

“What did you say, Darce? You asked me to ‘fuck the shit’ outta you?” he whispered, and she laughed breathlessly.

They both knew the more he teased her the wetter she got. She managed to squeeze him through his boxer briefs, his hips bucking to meet her hand.

“Do it again,” she whispered, unable to keep the words in. “Right here.”

“Want you to come first,” he replied, and his hand left her cunt, grabbing her by the jaw to turn her head toward him, catching her in a rough kiss of teeth and tongue, leaving wet marks on her face.

Darcy surrendered, missing him inside her, his tongue fucking her mouth, leaving her breathless by the time he resurfaced, moving back to kneel.

He tugged off her shirt, then her shorts and when she tried turning, he shook his head, his hands on her hips to keep her back to him.

“S-Steve, fuck,” she moaned, feeling his mouth on her, lapping at her, his face pressed up into her ass. “Isn’t your beard going to stink for ages?”

“I love it,” he replied, before sinking his tongue into her cunt again, and Darcy squeezed her eyes shut.

Of course. Of course Steve loved his face smelling of her pussy. He probably even sucked at the bristles to taste her again. The thought itself spurred her on, and she leaned forward against the counter, Steve’s hum of approval sending tingles to her toes.

He reached her clit with his fingers, and Darcy was gone. She felt the warm euphoria bloom from deep inside her, making her knees buckle from the force of it, laughing by the end of it. She could feel herself twitching, panting as the kitchen came back to her, sweat beginning to form around her hairline.

She felt him pull back and press a kiss to one of her cheeks and she laughed weakly, hearing the soft sound of his underwear being pulled down.

She bit her lip when the crown of him was rubbed up and down, testing the waters.

“Steve…”

She didn’t finish her sentence – he seemed to not want to draw it out any longer, either. He pushed into her and they both groaned. He felt hot and stretched her so perfectly, filling her to the brim after a few shallow thrusts.

“Fuck,” he gasped, when he was fully seated inside her. “Fuck if that ain’t the best feelin’ in the fuckin’ world…”

She felt like she was high. She was high on Steve, floating above the kitchen, smiling as he began to rock.

“Except for… the best feeling, I guess,” he murmured, and she laughed with him.

“Please keep talking,” she said, and he laughed again, giddy.

“Your tight little body drivin’ me crazy,” he said, leaning forward to kiss her neck, latch onto the skin there as he rocked into her, slow and way too shallow for Darcy’s liking. “So wet…”

“Steve, fuck me,” she hissed, and he laughed. “Fuck me.”

He obliged, moving back to slam into her and she cried out.

“Yes,” she breathed, his hips picking up speed. “Just like this…”

“Couldn’t wait for you to come back to bed,” he whispered, and she moaned, hearing his flesh beating into hers. “Wanted you here… Wanna make you come again.”

He took long, hard strokes, his hand reaching for her clit as Darcy began to wail. She left the world again, coming hard, her whole body tensing with it.

He pulled out of her to turn her around and he kissed her with sloppy urgency, lifting her up to place her on the counter, tucking back inside her.

“Wanted to see your face again,” he panted. His eyes ducked to her chest, too. “You’re so beautiful…”

She didn’t know if she could take much more. He was rough with her, slamming into her, making her moan with each drag of him.

She could see he was close, his movements almost erratic, his kisses smothering and clumsy, his teeth scraping her skin when he sucked her neck and fucked her hard enough that she lost all sense of herself.

“Gimme one more,” he panted, “Come on, sweetheart, one more for me…”

“_Steve!”_ she yelled, and she came, losing her vision, squeezing him as hard as she could, his unyielding thumb against her swollen clit.

He stopped moving completely, kissing her face and neck before moving up to her mouth, both of them panting. Darcy pulled back, glancing between them.

“Don’t finish in me,” she whispered, and he pulled out.

Her movements graceless but enthusiastic, she slipped off the counter to the floor, taking him in her mouth. He groaned, his fingers deep in her hair as she sucked him hard and fast, her hand working what she couldn’t fit in her mouth.

He huffed and Darcy promptly pulled back, jerking him as he crumbled, shuddering as he came down her front. The warm splash of him made Darcy giggle, Steve’s mouth hanging open as she wrung him out.

He stared and stared at her as she sat back on her knees. She was breathless, smiling up at him.

“Jesus Christ,” he whispered.

She hadn’t done that before and wondered if he would like it. He seemed to by how his cock was already twitching toward her again, seeming to have a mind of its own as always.

He finally turned to grab some Kleenex from the box next to the microwave and handed them to her, and Darcy mopped up some of the mess as he watched, transfixed.

“That was…”

She stood with some difficulty, putting the wad of tissues into the trashcan under the sink before turning toward him, his hands cradling her face.

“Jesus Christ,” he said again, and she laughed.

“I want some coffee,” she said, and he leaned to kiss her on the forehead.

“Five minutes,” he said, and she laughed some more.

He moved back, picking up his discarded underwear. He called to her as he headed down the hallway to the bedroom:

“Five minutes, or I’m coming after you again.”

Darcy, who was watching his ass as he walked away, smiled.

“Okay. I’ve had my warning.”

-

As much as their little world together was perfect, that’s what it was – their little world outside of the rest of their lives. The lovemaking wasn’t denial, but definitely a distraction from the swells of anger and misery.

The rain stayed for three days. She thought of Thor when the lightning flashed over the sea, the thunder that followed. She longed for a hug from her friend. She hadn’t seen him in years, and wondered how Jane was coping.

She’d made sure she knew she was safe, but she wasn’t risking her friend being taken away from Ross, either. Nat assured her that Jane and Rachel were safe.

It didn’t stop the nightmares. She kept waking in the night, usually rousing from his sleep as well. She’d struggle to catch her breath. Sometimes she’d turn a corner while walking through the apartment and see Gerald with his brains blown out smiling at her with his perfect teeth, little Jim Morrison at his feet, wagging his tail.

Steve put his foot down, as gently as possible. He called a meeting with Maria Hill and Nick Fury. They sat in a conference room together, with Sam and Nat in attendance, all eyes on Darcy.

Her notebook sat on the glass table in front of her. She stared at it with her knee jiggling under the table.

“I want to send this to Tony Stark,” she said, and she looked at Fury and Hill.

She was glad no-one had tried to laugh her out of the building. She knew she was asking for a lot, but it wasn’t just peace of mind.

“Ross can’t get away with this,” Steve added. “We owe it to Tony… he deserves to know the truth.”

“What makes you think he won’t throw it away?” Hill said, her brows furrowing.

Steve’s jaw worked. “I have no idea how he’ll react.”

He glanced away at Darcy. He was doing better, less self-loathing behind his eyes. He knew it wasn’t him who threw her against that wall or break her ribs.

“I’m going to request Darcy goes to stay in Wakanda for a while.”

Darcy watched everyone register the words, and Fury smirked with a knowing look on his face. They all knew this wasn’t something up for discussion – Steve and Darcy had already decided this. The request Steve planned to make concerned Wakandan royalty, and not the people in this room.

“Nine times out of ten, cruelty wins,” he added. “I want to even the odds.”

-

Darcy hitched the backpack on her one shoulder, raising her other hand to shield her eyes from the sun, peering down into the valley where she could make out a figure tossing hay into a little paddock beside a hut.

She’d been in Wakanda for less than an hour. When she met T’Challa she was unsure of what to say. She was eternally grateful, knowing the strings that were pulled to transport her there in the first place.

“I’m sorry that all I seem to do is come to you with problems,” she heard Steve say to the King, both of them standing behind Darcy in the grass.

“He has been a useful visitor,” T’Challa murmured. “In his own way. He is healing well.”

Darcy met Steve’s eye. “I don’t want to overstep.”

“You won’t,” T’Challa answered.

“I guess I should go say hello,” Darcy mumbled, and she set off down the hill, swatting a fly.

From what she knew about the man staying in the hut, he wasn’t the same Bucky Barnes as the man in the history books by any stretch of the imagination. The closer Darcy got, she could see he was using one arm to throw hay over the wooden fence into the enclosures. The hungry goats came over to eat while he petted their heads and moved to grab more from the pile beside the hut.

Darcy made sure she made enough sounds to not startle him, clearing her throat as she stood several feet away from him, her grip still tight on her bag.

He turned his head and froze, and Darcy felt her heart pick up speed. His eyes weren’t warm like in the Howling Commandos photographs. Those pictures always reminded her of Elvis Presley, way too clean cut to be a real war hero. She hated that perception, it was so off. Bucky was the same age as her in a lot of those old photographs… There were so many moments in Darcy’s life when she had to remember that she was an adult woman, and not a child.

Did he maybe think she was an apparition of some kind?

She lifted her hand awkwardly, not even moving it to wave.

“Hi,” she said.

“Hi,” he echoed, turning his body toward her, dropping the hay.

The goats bleating in the background and the wind whipping through the tall grass filled the silence. Bucky’s eyes moved to behind them, looking at Steve and T’Challa before letting his gaze fall back to Darcy.

“I’m Darcy. I’m going to… stay here for a while.”

“Thought maybe you were…”

Bucky’s sentence trailed off and Darcy didn’t push him, only felt her stomach flutter. She felt nervous, registering a real desire to be liked by this man, and not because he was attractive. He was undeniably gorgeous, and maybe she’d began to prefer beards and long hair, but his eyes were the most captivating part of him. Large and blue and scrutinising her as she looked away at the goats hanging around, eating.

She moved toward them, offering her hand through the gap in the fence, feeling a little mouth nuzzle at her open palm, the tickling wetness of a curious tongue and she laughed softly. Bucky moved up beside her with some distance between them, copying her with a different goat.

“Do they have names?” Darcy asked.

Bucky pointed at one in the middle of the little enclosure that was jumping around, flipping off of a wooden box and knocking into the other larger kids.

“See that one over there, the dumbass runt?” he murmured, and Darcy nodded. “That’s Stevie.”

She ducked her head, snorting. “Perfect.”

They watched Stevie do some backflips in silence, and Darcy felt something in her chest loosen.

-

_I know I can’t relate to you. Our stories don’t add up at all. I know you’ve had to live with the responsibility of the whole human race on your shoulders. I know that even before Steve was found on the ice, you would have grown up in his shadow. I know your father Howard would have made you hear all the stories from the war. _

_We both know Steve isn’t the person the propaganda machine made him out to be. He’s more than that. _

_I’m not telling you to forgive him. I’m telling you to believe me. I have nothing to gain from this. I have everything to lose. _

-

Bucky noticed a hickey on Darcy’s collar bone when the strap of her new dress bunched up to the side. He blinked and looked away, a smirk forming on his face.

“How long have you and St-?”

“How long have you and Nat been a thing?” she cut in.

It was two days into her visit. She was helping repot some succulents, sitting on her knees in the grass, hearing the children playing and running around in the distance. Steve had left that morning for the base. Their farewell sex had been intense, the ache between her legs a constant reminder of the night.

“Depends,” he answered with a grunt. “On what you mean by ‘thing’.”

Darcy smiled, choosing her words carefully. “I guess you’re at an advantage, your girlfriend being a spy and all. She hasn’t told me a thing. I can’t get her to budge.”

He shook his head. “I won’t tell, either.”

“Fine,” Darcy said with an exaggerated huff.

It took him another minute to press her again.

“He make the first move?”

Darcy paused, raising her eyebrows at him, watching him smile wolfishly. She knew as a teenager watching the newsreels in her ninth grade history class she’d nearly bitten her pencil in two when she saw his dazzling smile for the first time.

“I think you already know the answer, by the look on your face,” she said, tilting her head. She felt herself smile despite herself.

“I would’ve told him he was an idiot if he hadn’t,” Bucky said, looking away. He’d finished his third plant, racing ahead of Darcy. “He tended to hesitate.”

“Didn’t say he didn’t,” Darcy muttered.

He felt his eyes on her again and she glanced up, shrugging.

“We knew each other for a couple years before anything happened. I was either dating somebody, or he’d be in New York when I was overseas. We weren’t always in the same place.”

She finished her plant and put it aside, grabbing another one.

“Then Ross tried to use me to draw him out. It worked, because he wanted to save me.”

“Yeah, sounds familiar,” Bucky muttered.

“I shouldn’t have–” Darcy cut herself off, shaking her head.

Bucky frowned. “Shouldn’t’ve what?”

She shook her head again. “It’s stupid. I know it’s stupid, so I won’t say it.”

There was an awkward pause and Darcy regretted the turn their conversation took. She wasn’t supposed to be burdening this new person with all the old bullshit her head was filled with for the last few months.

When they finished the job and watered the plants, she and Bucky put away the equipment. She handed him things to place on higher shelfs she couldn’t reach. When they were done, Bucky kept looking at her, a frown forming.

“You never did anything wrong,” he said, and her eyes snapped to his.

The tool shed felt smaller, cramped almost. She felt like his gaze could cut her to the bone, he seemed to see right through her. He reminded her of Steve that way.

“Course I did,” Darcy replied, though she didn’t mean to sound like she was arguing with him.

“You never did anything wrong, Darcy,” he said, a little firmer. “You were attracted to one another, and you wanted a connection. You’re getting punished for a very human desire.”

“I could have not gone to Dallas,” she replied, her voice a little smaller. “I could have stayed away.”

“I don’t think you’d change any of it, though,” he murmured. “If you could do it over.”

Darcy ducked, nodding. She knew she’d never take it back. She loved Steve more than she loved anyone her whole life. It opened her to all types of danger, but he was her shield as well. He made her stronger.

“Yeah, I’m right,” Bucky said, and she saw him give a little smile.

-

She fell into a routine. She’d wake up in her hut, have breakfast and feed the goats with Bucky, see Shuri or maybe T’Challa, and spend the day in the paddocks or go to the labs for therapy.

She knew Steve wanted her to heal. She had less to overcome than Bucky, but she still needed all the help she could get.

They were able to tweak some things internally. Over several weeks she was able to stop feeling so muddled with her memories. She learned about how trauma affects the brain. Shuri was able to help tailor a program for her recovery and she was able to feel more in control.

T’Challa took her aside and they stood on a balcony overlooking the city eight weeks into her stay.

“Steve brings out the best in people,” he said, and she smiled, nodding. “He has never asked for anything just for himself.”

“Did you offer him a place to stay?”

“Are you joking?” the King retorted, flashing an incredulous smile. “He has an entire wing to himself he’s never used.”

“He won’t stop,” Darcy murmured, shaking her head. “Not until… well, I don’t know. At least not until he stops having to run.”

“I have had the same idea for some time,” T’Challa said, glancing at the sprawling city below, and he took a deep breath. “We can work through all this.”

Nothing had changed back home, as far as Darcy knew. She hadn’t heard of what Tony’s reaction had been if he had one when he read her letter. All she heard was it was successfully delivered.

“But?”

He looked at her, smiling. “I won’t, not if it jeopardizes Barnes’ recovery.”

They weren’t about to engage with Tony and Ross if it meant losing Bucky somehow. It wasn’t worth the risk. Darcy couldn’t help smiling back, though it all felt so unfair.

“Great minds,” she said. “I won’t budge unless Bucky is guaranteed amnesty, and I know Steve is the same.”

-

She still had bad dreams. Shuri wasn’t able to conquer her subconscious. Sometimes she’d wake in the middle of the night not remembering the dream but her guts would twist and churn and she knew she’d gone back to basement.

She’d see Bucky look off into the distance when they were together and she’d lean over to squeeze his shoulder in solidarity, his hand coming up to squeeze her hand.

“You never did anything wrong,” she said one time, and he blinked at her, coming back to the present. “You never did anything wrong, either.”

“I did those things,” he said.

She moved toward him, pulling him into a hug. He tensed at first but then let go, his arm coming up to wrap around her back, his lips brushing her temple.

Sometimes they sat in silence for hours listening to the world around them, the day turn into night.

-

_I know I’m the victim of a crime. My rights were violated. What I’m trying to say is somebody really fucked up, and it was General Ross. I know I’m a survivor, though. I can be a victim and a survivor at the same time. _

_Do the right thing. I know you try to._

-

The envelope came to Darcy, battered and worn at its edges. Steve handed it to her when they reunited on the landing space outside the palace.

“Nat scanned it. Nothing suspicious,” he said, and Darcy stuck it in her pocket for later.

When she finally opened it to read it, it was during the afternoon as she watched Steve and Bucky with the goats from her picnic spot on the hill. The pages flapped in the wind and she squinted down at the words.

_Dear Miss Lewis_

_I’m getting married tomorrow. Your letter has been sitting in my office for the last three months after it was dropped off by the same asshole who called me Tony Stank the last time –_

Darcy felt her lips quirk in a smile, which surprised her.

_-and I read it, even though I knew I didn’t want to. Am I a masochist? I’m transcribing this by the way, so apologies for the run-on sentences. I’m getting married tomorrow and I can’t stop thinking about you. This is the premise of at least a dozen romantic comedies I’m sure but I was seething for nearly two years straight. If I say your name instead of Pepper’s tomorrow, there will be trouble, that’s for fucking sure. _

Darcy turned the page over, reading on.

_I didn’t know. I didn’t know about the basement. Ross preached oversight and I agreed with him but I didn’t know he would hurt you. With some investigating I’m sure I can find others he harmed as well. I don’t trust Steve. He lost that trust the second he decided to keep me in the dark about my parents. We can’t move past that. Maybe in the next life. Jesus. I don’t mean to sound Shakespearean but did I mention I’m getting married tomorrow? I’m a little messy._

Darcy looked over to see Steve and Bucky still there before she glanced back at the page. She’d rather finish this now than put it off any longer. She’d heard that Tony married Pepper Potts a month ago, so this letter was already a few weeks old.

_I don’t think you’ll remember but there was a moment on the compound when I came in because you were bitching about the coffee machine in the labs. I read your notice you left above the sink. It said something like ‘If you don’t clean up after yourself I’ll fucking kill you’. It was in Comic Sans and I couldn’t stop myself from howling, it was so stupid perfect._

She could see there was only a paragraph left to read.

_I’m sorry. I’m sorry you got caught in the crossfire. I’m sorry your life was taken from you. I’m getting married tomorrow and I won’t be able to get this out of my head that you went through this. It’s survivor’s guilt, like you said in your letter. I won’t stop wanting to make things right that the Avengers fucked up. New York, Sokovia, all that shit. I’m sorry I didn’t get to know you before all this. You seem like a good kid. No, scratch that. You’re great. Just don’t expect me to hold hands with Cap and sing kumbaya… I didn’t think you expected that, anyway. I’m getting married tomorrow and then I’m going after Ross. I’ll find something to prove what happened. I just know you can’t come home. Tony Stark._

Darcy folded the paper over and tucked it away, sighing. Steve was looking at her and she rose a hand to wave at him.

She remembered the first time she saw him since he was on the run, when he found her with her wrists bound behind her back in Mexico.

_Aren’t you… a war criminal now?_

-

“Did he find anything?” Darcy asked.

She was lying in Steve’s arms, and she knew it wasn’t ideal to bring up Tony in bed, but the question had been on her mind since she read his letter.

“Nat didn’t hear anything,” he murmured, his fingers stroking her hair. He sighed. “I wish I could...”

“Kick his door down and drag him out?” Darcy cut in, her brow lifting. “Like back in the good ol’ days of the Howlies?”

Steve smirked. “Well, you should know that I told Buck the same thing and he said to get in line. He’s just as pissed as me.”

Darcy pressed a kiss to his bearded cheek. “I doubt that. You could be Mayor of Grump Town.”

“Wow,” he said, his fingers digging into her ribs, tickling her. “Really?”

“Yeah, what’re you gonna do about it?”

He kissed her, shutting her up for all of three seconds before he rolled her onto her back, rearranging their bodies so he was slotting between her thighs, her breath hitching as he played between her legs.

His smile faded a little, and Darcy touched the side of his face.

“Where’d you go?” she whispered.

“I didn’t know what to expect, y’know,” he said, and Darcy tilted her head.

“You’re thinking about_ Tony_ right now?”

He broke into a smile, which helped.

“He’s good. He’s a good man,” he murmured, nodding. “I know he’ll find it, the proof.”

Darcy wasn’t so obsessed with retribution those days. Since spending all her time with Bucky, she knew it was better to look to the people closest to you than to your enemies for comfort. She wasn’t about to be welcomed back to America any time soon. She’d broken the law.

She knew she’d never apologize for it.

“I love you,” she said, and he smiled again.

Much later, when she was fighting off sleep, feeling well-loved, playing with Steve’s long hair, stroking his beard with her other hand, she brought up something from months ago.

“Remember when I said your ass would be one I’d save, if I got to save one person’s ass?”

Steve chuckled softly, his fingers stroking her bare stomach.

“Yeah.”

“Well, where’s my t-shirt, huh? Or my sticker?”

Steve began to laugh long and loud, the sound filling the room, carrying her off as she began to fall asleep.

-

The next morning when he stood naked watching the sunrise, his ass she saved on display, she giggled, causing him to turn around. She felt herself flush with desire and he came toward the bed, climbing in beside her.

Her hands glided through his beard, smiling into their kiss.

"Don't ever shave this off," she whispered, and he began to laugh against her lips. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [my Tumblr](http://grimeysociety.tumblr.com/)


End file.
